


The Most Dangerous Thing is to Love

by TheStarArcher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, F/M, Family, First War with Voldemort, Grief/Mourning, Love, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Post-First War with Voldemort, Trauma, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStarArcher/pseuds/TheStarArcher
Summary: After graduating from Hogwarts, the Marauders find themselves entrenched in the war against Voldemort, fighting for their lives, their relationships, and the family they've become.Then, when an attack led by Fenrir Greyback leaves an orphan child bitten and about to embark on a life with lycanthropy, Remus Lupin is called upon to be the experienced support for her that he never had, and Remus and Sirius find themselves with the daughter they never dreamed would be possible to have. But life is never easy, especially when Death Eaters roam the streets, Greyback won't leave his cubs be, and Voldemort wants them all dead.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s), Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. February 1981

Monsters aren’t real. Or so every adult had promised. Perhaps they didn’t know their statement to be a lie, but Madigan certainly knew better than to believe it when she woke to the breaking of glass and the sharp burn of wolven fangs piercing her little shoulder and popping the joint clean out of its socket. Her scream split the night, and the five-year-old struggled wildly beneath the enormous gray wolf dragging her bodily from her bed.

  
 _“Flipendo!”_ A blinding flash of swirling white light knocked the wolf right off the child and into the far wall so hard that cracks spider-webbed out from the point of impact.

  
“Ewan,” Madigan sobbed as her savior scooped her up and fled the room.

  
“Up, up, up!” The young social worker was shouting as he darted down the hall, rousing the handful of other kids in the care home. His hand briefly brushed the back of Madigan’s head, and she felt something slender and hard in his grip.

  
A guttural growl made her shriek, the throb in her mangled shoulder sharper, and the wolf crashed into the hall behind them, blocking the path to the front door. The other kids began to yell and panic too.

  
Ewan whirled and blasted more light at the beast before running the kids toward the kitchen.

  
Another wolf, smaller and sandy, was splintering the back door.

Madigan’s vision throbbed with sparks and black splotches, her little breaths huffing and thick with tears as Ewan sent the kids rushing down to the cellar instead. Descending the small staircase was suffocating despite the chill draught whistling through from some obscure corner of the room.

“Gid, take Madigan,” Ewan ordered, passing the wounded girl to the oldest of the kids, a gangly fifteen-year-old with dark eyes popped wide. “Everyone stay here, no matter what.”

“No, no, Ewan!” Madigan wailed, but, with a quick squeeze of her shaking hand, the young man rushed back toward the stairs, creating a glowing blue ward at the entrance of the room as he made to ascend.

But he didn’t make it far.

“Expulso!” Blue flashed from the tip of his wand and struck the wolf creature barreling down toward him, sending it blasting into meaty pieces through the stairwell, but three others immediately followed it, the biggest gray one, Madigan’s blood still flecking its muzzle, tackling Ewan.

Madigan screamed louder than she ever had in her life, the light bulbs all around buzzing and brightening until they burst and darkness surged out through the neighborhood.

***

Remus and Sirius had collapsed unceremoniously and fully clothed into their bed at the Potter home as soon as they returned, almost an hour after the moon set and Remus twisted painfully back into his human form. Though mostly unharmed, this transformation had been rougher, lasting fifteen agonizing minutes for reasons he didn’t know. Sirius couldn’t bear to watch him writhing in the snow but had waited, shuffling his paws quietly, by Remus’ clothes, folded and tucked neatly in a bush several feet away. But as soon as Remus was human again, Sirius had covered him with a soft, plush cotton blanket he'd packed for a while first, trying to keep his boyfriend warm though mindful of his sensitive, scarred skin and aching bones. Then he had shifted back into Padfoot and crawled gently closer, offering warmth if Remus could handle his touch. Shivering violently, Remus had leaned slightly into the enormous black dog, slowly turning his face into a furry shoulder. Sirius had whined softly, a faint tang of blood and fever in his nose.

When Remus finally had the strength to stand, Sirius turned back, helped him dress, and insisted on him side-alonging while Sirius apparated them back to the Potter home. Remus had puked in the back garden as soon as they landed. Sirius cleared it away with a whispered _scourgify_ and answered a sleepy James' security question before leading Remus inside and upstairs. His shoulders had tightened with unease, knowing he’d seen thin ribbons of blood mixed into the watery vomit, but he tried to reassure himself that this was not all that unusual. That still didn’t make him feel better though, especially with as dead-on-his-feet as Remus was, his lovely green eyes bloodshot and practically stuck shut. At least Remus hadn’t hurt himself beyond a few scratches they could take care of when they woke...

***

But scarcely an hour had passed when the stunning blue light of a Patronus filled the room, and Remus forced his fever-sticky eyes open to see a great spectral phoenix soar to his side.

  
Out of its open beak, Dumbledore’s rich timbre relayed, “Fenrir Greyback led an attack in a muggle neighborhood during the night. I need you to come to St. Mungo’s with all haste, Remus.”

Chills raised goosebumps along his arms. Remus had to take a deep breath to psyche himself up to push his sore body out of bed, burning bile rising slowly in his throat, but Sirius' fingers snaked out from under the bedding and snagged the hem of his jumper.

"Moony…"

"Dumbledore wouldn't ask if he didn't really need me," Remus rasped, wobbling slightly and rubbing at his eyes.

The lump under the duvet sighed heavily. "All right. I'm coming."

"You don't have t--" Remus started, but he must have stood too quickly. Cutting himself off, Remus lurched into the bathroom and narrowly made it to the toilet in time. Though his body had little left to give, burgundy-spotted stomach acid dribbled into the water with each violent wretch.

"Shit, Moony." Sirius had appeared behind him, hands resting, ginger but steady, on Remus' shoulders. "I was going to say, you know we shouldn't be going anywhere alone these days, but you're really in no shape to travel on your own anyway."

Remus bristled instinctively--but that lasted for all of a second. He was too damn tired for pride or protest, everything hurt, and Sirius had begun rubbing soothing circles in his tense back. Instead, he offered a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment.

“We can leave a note for James on the bedroom door or something, in case we’re out long,” Sirius mused as he stood to retrieve and wet a flannel in the sink. “I hate to wake him up again, and knocking may wake Harry.”

“Mmhm.” Remus swallowed hard, lifting his head a bit as Sirius knelt beside him and slowly swiped the cool cloth across his sweaty forehead. Though he closed his eyes to relax a moment, he knew no matter how long he sat on the bathroom floor and let Sirius tend to him, he wasn’t going to be presentable or particularly well for at least the rest of the day, and the clock was ticking since Dumbledore’s message. He saw no point in waiting, though he still trembled with exhaustion and sickness. As the damp flannel trailed down his cheek, Remus reached up and gently caught Sirius’ wrist. He forced his eyes open to meet Sirius’s gray gaze. "...We should get going."

Sirius stared back for a long, quiet moment, hand sliding down to Remus' chin, and lifted his thumb to trace his bottom lip, lingering on the new, slanted scar close to the right corner of his mouth. His voice was hushed as he leaned a little closer. “We’ll go. You’ll play at feeling stronger than you are, but not to me. Never to me. Promise?”

Head slowly spinning in the gravitational pull of those eyes like stars, Remus managed a solemn, “Promise.”

Then Sirius replaced his thumb with his lips, achingly soft yet intense in a way only Sirius could be with him, and it took every flickering brain cell Remus had to remember they had a mission so he couldn’t just wrap his arms around Sirius’ waist and hold him close forever. Well, that and the fact that they were sitting on the bathroom floor, Remus’ temperature uncomfortably high.

When they finally disentangled themselves, briefly washed up, and left a note levitating at approximate head-level in front of James and Lily’s bedroom door so they couldn’t miss it, the pair crept out of the house and apparated to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

“Lupin. Black.” Alastor Moody was waiting for them just outside, wand at the ready. His creepy, enchanted blue eye roved over them, taking in the exhaustion, the way Sirius held fast to Remus’ elbow and Remus struggled not to sway. He didn’t seem all that surprised Sirius had come too. Moody aimed his wand at Sirius first. “What news did I bring to our meeting last month?”

Sirius stiffened. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett had been murdered.”

Moody gave a terse nod and shifted his wand to Remus’ stressed and scarred face. “Who was the Death Eater that delivered the killing curse to Gideon?”

“Antonin Dolohov.”

With an affirmative grunt, Moody turned and led them into the hospital at a tense, limping gait. Sunlight streamed in through the windows set high in the walls, growing in heat and intensity each second. The low murmuring of conversations and groans was steady and unintelligible yet insistent. The tang of blood, the sour reek of vomit, and the cloying fumes of mixed potions invaded Remus’ nose. Every sharp click of Moody’s metal knee almost set Remus’ eye to twitching. He couldn’t resist a sudden, disturbed shudder that would have sent him stumbling into the wall if Sirius wasn’t holding onto him still.

“Why are we here?” Sirius pressed as they weaved between healers and potions carts. They had to admit St. Mungo’s was bustling even for almost eight in the morning.

Moody ignored the twenty-one-year-old as he often did when Sirius was being impatient and an answer was right around the corner. Literally, in this case. They turned into one of the private wards in a back corner of the hospital. There, they found Dumbledore sitting beside a small bed. A child’s bed.

Remus froze as a familiar, spicy-musky scent like the woods and wildflower petals hit him. _Fenrir Greyback led an attack in a muggle neighborhood during the night._ Oh. Oh, Merlin, no. Remus didn’t realize Dumbledore had stood or that Sirius was gently tugging on him, calling his name. His blood was rushing in his ears, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the little brunette girl sleeping deeply before him with her shoulder wrapped tight and her arm secured in a sling. The little brunette girl who would forever bear the same silver, toothy scars as the one marring his ribcage. The little brunette girl, unaware of the excruciating pain that would twist and break and reform her small body in a month’s time.

Unable to get his suddenly heavy breathing under control, Remus’ chest tightened and black crept into the edges of his vision.

“Moony!” Sirius yelped, throwing his arms around Remus’ waist as the younger man’s knees buckled.

Remus wouldn’t exactly say he passed out. Just--he closed his eyes for a second, and, when he opened them, he was sitting on the floor with a wide-eyed Sirius while Moody and Dumbledore hovered, grim and worried.

“Alastor, if you’d please, find Mr. Lupin a glass of water. Thank you.” Dumbledore leaned down and placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Breathe, Remus. It’s all right.”

“All right?” Remus croaked, the tingling throughout his body beginning to pulse away as he became more aware of his surroundings again. His fingers curled tightly into Sirius’ sleeves, and he lifted his burning head to meet Dumbledore’s cool blue eyes incredulously. “Nothing about this is all right; that little girl won’t be all right!”

“With the proper care, she can be,” Dumbledore countered calmly, seemingly unfazed that his former student had nearly fainted and, swift as a flipped switch, was yelling at him. “With caring and empathetic people in her life, she can be.”

This time, Sirius looked sharply at Dumbledore, too. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, peering at the pair patiently. “Last night, Fenrir Greyback attacked a muggle care home. His intended target was a twenty-eight-year-old muggleborn wizard named Ewan MacKay. Mr. MacKay had wanted to move away from this war, so chose to work a muggle job; he’s been a social worker for the past seven years, but he contacted me less than two years ago about one of his children showing signs of magic. Perhaps it was our correspondence that attracted Voldemort’s attention, or perhaps it was simply Ewan’s status as a muggleborn. Regardless, we lost Mr. MacKay last night when he gave his life to protect the children of the care home, to protect Madigan Kiernan.”

Madigan Kiernan. Remus’ eyes drifted to the small form in the bed again. Something in the back of his mind stirred, restless, needing to comfort and protect, a feeling the Wolf had only given him a handful of times over the years when one of the Marauders, Lily or even Regulus, had needed him. It was one of the things he’d tentatively come to like about the Wolf; it recognized its pack. It loved. But he couldn’t admit that to anyone, no matter how many times he nearly found the words spilling out to Sirius in those dark months around the time Sirius ran away from his home for good. _We love you. We will protect you. You are home with us._ But they were sixteen then, and Sirius liked girls not boys, and, despite the Marauders’ kindness and acceptance evident by their illegal animagi status, Remus couldn’t admit the Wolf was an ever-present piece of him. Not when everyone was taught werewolves are dark creatures. Not when werewolf attacks were beginning to fill the headlines of the Daily Prophet. Not when fear and paranoia permeated even the vast halls of Hogwarts.

“Kiernan blew out the whole damn electrical grid in the neighborhood,” Moody added as he returned with a goblet of water, which he passed to Remus. “Certainly caught Miss Davenport's attention when the sparks almost caught her wing on fire."

"Aurora was there?" Sirius' eyes widened slightly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Miss Davenport was out on patrol with Frank Longbottom and had taken to the sky for a better look when they heard screaming."

Heart pounding, Remus took a long drink of water in an attempt to ground himself, very aware of the tremble in his hands, of Sirius’ grasping his waist. “They’re all right? What were they doing patrolling a muggle neighborhood?”

"Davenport and Longbottom are fine; Greyback was already leaving when they found the house." Moody nodded.

Dumbledore explained, “There are several muggleborn witches and wizards in that neighborhood, so Miss Davenport and Mr. Longbottom were checking all was well.”

Remus nodded, setting down the goblet and brushing his fingers over the back of Sirius’ hand, then shifting to stand. Sirius immediately shot to his feet and pulled the taller man up, simultaneously attentive yet distracted. His bright eyes kept drifting to the child beside Dumbledore, shining with...eagerness? Remus’ heart skipped a beat.

Seeming to read the question blooming silent and heavy in the air, Dumbledore fixed the pair with a steady gaze and addressed Remus. “Mr. Lupin. I am well aware that you are still quite young. But that does not change the fact that, of the people I trust, you are the only one with the understanding of and experience with both magic and lycanthropy that Miss Kiernan will need to guide her.”

No, no; no more funny turns allowed, Remus tried to remind his pounding heart and slowly swaying vision. He blinked hard a few times and ran his hand through his loose, tawny curls, causing them to bounce forward into his cloudy eyes. Oh, Merlin. He could feel Sirius’ energy building. Was he excited? Remus was fucking terrified! He half wanted to stop Dumbledore’s next words and run home to dive under the covers, sleep his transformation off, and pretend like none of this was happening, but he concentrated on breathing and listening instead.

“Mr. Lupin, I would ask that you take in Miss Kiernan as your own.”

***

Hope Lupin once dreamed of watching her little boy grow up into a talented young wizard, happy and healthy and absolutely in love. She dreamed of the wonderful woman he would marry. She dreamed of the brilliant and beautiful grandchildren he’d give her. Then, shortly before his fifth birthday, a dark creature broke into their home under a full moon, and everything changed. The world dimmed, the future burned to ash, and her little boy was in Hell. The dreams faded, and she wanted only to soothe his pain. She couldn’t bear kissing him goodbye once a month before his father followed suit and locked the child in his room, forced to abandon him to the beast, left to pray it wouldn’t kill him, that maybe, just once, it could be calm and gentle. But, each morning, his parents rushed into a nightmare of blood and broken bones. Their tears dripped, blessedly cool against his shredded, burning skin. And the world dimmed.

When Albus Dumbledore himself showed up at the latest Lupin house ten years ago, Hope’s ashen dreams began to tentatively piece themselves back together. A werewolf at Hogwarts. It was unheard of, ridiculously dangerous, but amazing. Yet, for too long, terror consumed her little boy. What if he was found out? What if he hurt someone? How could he dare think he could be like other wizarding children? And what if he simply failed his only opportunity? Then he made friends, more true than he could have asked for. And Hope Lupin’s older dreams began to return in earnest. She was a muggle, sweet and naive to the wizarding world. Unregistered or not, what opportunities did he really have after Hogwarts? He tried hard to let his mother dream, but the world dimmed again.

Lily Evans fell in love with Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin fell in love with Lily Evans. It wasn’t the type of love his mother dreamed of, but she thought it was, at first, and Remus considered giving it a try. But Lily was one of his best friends, and, though at the time she was not particularly fond of James Potter, James Potter was mad about her, and Remus would never cross that line with either of his friends. Lily Evans deserved the type of whole-hearted, true love James Potter offered her, and James Potter deserved the whole damn world after everything he’d done for Remus Lupin. Remus adored his idiots-slowly-falling-in-love, and he could not pretend.

Then Remus Lupin fell in love with Sirius Black. It was the type of love his mother dreamed of, but not in the way she dreamt it. And Remus was in agony. He loved and hurt in equal measure, unable to give voice to the feelings he knew would only ostracize him further and risk one of his dearest friendships. He tortured himself like only those in love can. Until the day Sirius Black kissed Remus Lupin. And the world didn’t feel so dark anymore.

Lily Evans fell in love with James Potter. It was the love Hope dreamt of. And they could shout it from the rooftops all they wanted. Sirius and Remus stuck to the safety of shadows and empty rooms. They could find acceptance and love in their friends. But they could not shout from the rooftops, and it took too long to even gather the courage for Remus to bring Sirius home as love instead of best friend. There would be no wedding and no children for Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. But they loved each other, and that was enough, even for Hope.

And Hope died less than a year after Remus graduated Hogwarts, unaware of the war waging in the wizarding world, unaware of the perils her boy faced every day, unaware of his life beyond the happy pieces that were all he and his father could bear to offer her. When, a couple of weeks after the funeral, Remus was sent undercover amongst various werewolf packs allied with Voldemort, and he’d spent three and a half months imprisoned and tormented by Fenrir Greyback and his pack, Remus thought it was good that there were no children waiting at home for him; his heart broke enough just thinking of Sirius and how he must have panicked when Remus didn’t show up at the rendezvous point. The Wolf cried every month, hurt him in desperate, failed escape attempts. Sometimes Remus still wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d escaped, that everything since the third moon wasn’t just a hopeful, coping hallucination of a permanently fractured mind.

Remus couldn’t decide if the most recent turn of events confirmed or denied this niggling doubt either. Several months home, several months of “recovery” and “simple” missions, and suddenly Dumbledore was giving Remus Lupin and Sirius Black a child. A werewolf child.

“I know it’s absolutely ridiculous and technically impossible, but I swear she has your eyes, Moony,” Sirius whispered, all restless excitement as they approached St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for the seventh time in as many days.

“Only technically?” Remus managed a tired, fond smile and quirked an eyebrow at his love. Then, having panicked and overly researched all sorts of things to prepare while Sirius nearly lost his mind in attempting to spend his entire inheritance left to him by his Uncle Alphard--which he definitely would have, had Remus not had the foresight to send Lily out to the shops with Sirius--preparing clothes and toys and anything he thought a soon-to-be-six-year-old girl might fancy, Remus added, “Well, she’s got your name.”

This time, it was Sirius who scoffed in amusement. “What are you talking about?”

“Madigan Kiernan,” Remus responded like he was testing out the sound. “Madigan means ‘little dog’, and Kiernan means ‘black’.”

“Little Black Dog.” Sirius’ eyes nearly popped out of his head, and the grin that broke out across his face nearly chased away every one of Remus’ fears. “Merlin’s bloody balls, she’s perfect for us.”

“She really is,” Remus murmured, struggling not to let his smile fade. Perfect, if they were older. Perfect, if they weren’t soldiers fighting a war they were losing. Perfect, if this was real. _Of course, it’s real,_ Remus berated himself. _If it wasn’t real, you wouldn’t be so bloody terrified._ He wouldn’t voice any of this to Sirius. He couldn’t. Sirius had enough to worry about without adding “werewolf boyfriend losing his mind” to the rapidly growing list. And adopting Madigan Kiernan...it was very likely their only chance at ever having a child, and Remus knew from the moment Lily first let Sirius hold baby Harry, that Sirius Black was a father at heart. Sure, at twenty-one, the young man was still irresponsible and rash and hot-headed, but the way he took to Harry so immediately and the infant to his godfather--Remus knew Sirius wanted that life for them, too, and he wasn’t scared to chase it. This--this was how Remus could give it to him. Maybe it scared him now, but he knew, with Sirius by his side, they could do it. Besides, Madigan needed a family, a family that would understand and help her with her new condition.

The little ward in which Madigan resided was empty but for the child and Aurora Davenport. Moody must have left the nineteen-year-old witch on the final watch shift, and she didn’t seem to mind, sitting beside the bed with a storybook on her lap, Madigan listening attentively. But Aurora closed the book when the pair entered, amber eyes flickering over them with a friendly glint. Suddenly noticing them too, the child greeted them shyly but with a soft cheer. “Moony, Paddy!”

“Hello, darling,” Remus returned, just as quiet but slightly amazed at how easy it was.

Sirius beamed, touching Aurora’s shoulder in greeting as he slipped around her to the opposite bedside and crouched down. He produced a small, gray and white stuffed wolf with glittering gold eyes from one of the inside pockets of his black, leather jacket and offered it to the now-wide-eyed girl. “Brought you a friend for the trip home.”

At the sight of the little wolf, Remus struggled between a tenseness that sent spasmodic twitches through the muscles in his shoulders and back, and the warm-hearted urge to laugh.

Aurora must have noticed something odd in his face or posture; she slipped out of her chair and brushed her fingers over Remus’ arm. But Remus offered her nothing but a murmured hello.

“Mine?” Madigan asked for confirmation, reaching, awed, for the plush creature.

“All yours.” Sirius nodded, tucking the toy in her grasp. He was relieved to note that the sling had been taken off and, though some remaining bandages were still evident by the bulk under the shoulder of her hospital gown, she was moving her arm without too much trouble. Though, perhaps she’d been recently given a pain potion. Either way, it was progress and gave him more confidence about taking her home today.

“Thank you.” Madigan’s smile widened a bit. Her heart had started pounding the second she realized someone was approaching, continuing even as Remus and Sirius had revealed themselves, but it was, at last, calming. They were always so nice to her like Ewan had been, and they were magical, too. Ewan… Madigan hugged the stuffed wolf tight, trying to refocus. Remus--or Moony as Sirius had re-introduced him when they all first spoke without the older wizard with the crescent glasses or the hovering one with the wonky, scary eye strapped onto his head--was quieter, shy, anxious. And he smelled like books and the forest, crisp leaves and a warm, soft musk. Something about him made her feel safer. Sirius--no, Paddy, she’d decided when he called himself Padfoot--was all excitement and energy and relentless movement with the smell of a growing storm--rain and the bite of electricity. She wondered if that lightning tang was the scent of his magic, but then she figured it couldn’t be since it wasn’t mixed into Moony’s, or Miss Aurora’s. She thought maybe magic was metallic, but she was still working up the courage to ask Moony about it; everyone said he was like her, and that’s why he would be so good as her dad. Despite the silver threaded through his tawny hair, the ever-present exhaustion in his moss-green eyes, and the scars across his kind if a bit pallid face, it didn’t take Madigan long to reason that he couldn’t be much older than some of the care home kids that had passed through the system. She did know he was younger than Ewan by a good bit-- _and there he was again, pressing into her mind--_

_\--smiling--_

_\--then screaming--_

_\--making the toys in her room march about--_

_\--then bleeding and tearing between ivory teeth--_

“Madigan.” Remus stepped forward and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, gently taking the hand that had curled into a white-knuckled fist and working on carefully uncurling each finger before her nails could pierce little crescents into her palm. She’d just gone all white and glossy-eyed suddenly, visibly trembling. “Darling, you’re safe. You’re safe.”

Once he’d gotten her hand open, he placed one of his own on her forehead while Sirius stroked her cheek, both trying to ease her back to the present. Aurora hovered by the curtains, uncertain if she should grab a healer.

But then Madigan began blinking quickly, glancing between the worried faces before her. Her eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushing in grief and embarrassment, and whispered, “Sorry.”

Immediately, Sirius shook his head and offered a reassuring smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

“We understand you’ve had a rough time. It’s not been a particularly good start to the year.” Remus brushed her dark hair out of her face, feeling a stirring in the back of his head, the Wolf peeking out at the child. When a thin starburst of amber crept out from Madigan’s pupils and streaked the mossy green of her irises, Remus knew his eyes were doing the same, that their Wolves were seeing each other. Then Madigan did something that completely surprised Remus. She placed her little hand on his scarred cheek, relaxed, and smiled.

The pleasant wolf musk Sirius knew so well grew, practically a punch in the nose this close and emanating from two instead of one. Sirius resisted the instinct to take a step back, even as his hair prickled, a Padfoot reflex. It was not threatening, just startling. Remus hadn’t voluntarily allowed his Wolf so close to the surface for the several months since his return from Greyback’s pack. To be fair, this probably wasn’t purposeful but a reaction to Madigan’s distress and potentially even Remus’, too; after all, those first couple of weeks back, Remus’ lovely green eyes had been streaked violent wolf-amber in anxiety, and he couldn’t handle letting anyone, even Sirius touch him nearly the entire month. Heightened emotions gave the Wolf an opportunity to push forward. But this still felt different. Wolf magic, the only way Sirius felt he could describe it. Sirius had never seen Madigan smile like that, but he knew the way Remus was leaning into her hand and starting to smile back. He was accepting her into his pack. A warm tingling bloomed through Sirius’ chest and spread head-to-toe. He wondered vaguely if James and Peter were experiencing this too. Surely, they did; their pack was expanding.

“Are you ready to go home?” Remus whispered, but his voice was slightly deeper than normal, the Wolf still leaking out.

Madigan nodded, the amber slowly fading from her eyes as she shifted and adjusted her hold on her new toy. Her smile brightened again when Remus leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before straightening up. Then she reached out for Sirius, who immediately scooped her up like she weighed no more than a doll. She wound one arm around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, noting that Remus’ scent clung to Sirius like cologne.

“Does your flat have a floo connection?” Aurora asked, finally deciding she wouldn’t be interrupting anything at this point as Remus reached for the small, second-hand duffel bag of Madigan’s things Frank had picked up from the care home for them a few days ago.

“Of course.” Sirius flashed a lightly teasing grin. Madigan had squished her wolf plush between herself and Sirius, giving her the freedom to play with his long black hair, by now grown down to brush his shoulders.

Aurora raised her hands mockingly, as if to ward him off. “I’m sorry; we aren’t all as fancy as Sirius bloody Black.”

“You see, Pads? How many times have I told you--we all know that beneath that leather jacket and all your band shirts remains a posh boy. You can’t hide him, though I admire your attempts. Usually.” Remus winked.

A deep, pleased flush filled Sirius’ cheeks, and he couldn’t resist the stupid grin that nearly split his face. He could count on one hand the number of times Remus Lupin had ever winked at him, and, Merlin, if he wasn’t holding or in the presence of a child, Sirius would have grabbed the other young man and kissed him until both their heads were spinning. But, there was a child in his arms and Aurora was watching with her bright amber hawk eyes, though, like Moody, she probably already suspected that the true nature of Remus and Sirius’ relationship was far more than just that of best friends and roommates, despite never having commented. So, Sirius restrained himself, and they followed Aurora to St. Mungo’s floo network.

“I’ll be seeing you lads soon, and, hopefully even you, Miss Madigan,” Aurora told them by way of goodbye, giving Madigan a smile, which the child returned bashfully. Then she met Remus’ eyes with a solemnity that sent flutters of anxiety through Sirius’ chest. “Be careful, Lupin.”

And she handed Remus a small, blue velvet bag produced from her coat.

Remus stiffened as his fingers closed around the pouch and felt what must be inside, quickly nodding and dropping his gaze as panicked, wolf-amber shot streaks back into his eyes. “We’ll talk soon, Miss Davenport.”

“Aurora,” she corrected, stepping back to give him space, peering up at the werewolf nearly two heads taller than her. “I’m free for afternoon tea tomorrow.”

“3:30?”

“Same shop.” Finally, she glanced at Sirius with another polite smile. “Later, lads.”

They watched her walk toward the entrance of St. Mungo’s, and Madigan’s eyes widened, lips parting in awed surprise, when the young woman’s figure suddenly blurred and swiftly morphed into a sleek sparrowhawk taking flight.

“Your turn, sirs,” a squeaky voice broke the heavy quiet that had settled around them. A house elf stood by Remus’ side, offering a pot of floo powder.

“Right, thank you.” Remus dipped his hand into the jar, exchanging a quick, communicative look with Sirius. Remus would head through first to make sure the flat was secure, and Sirius would follow with Madigan in a few minutes’ time. But then Sirius caught Remus’ wrist before he could step into the fireplace.

“What did she give you?”

“Not now, Pads.” Remus shook his head, not quite meeting the piercing stare hot on his face. He knew Sirius could feel the tremors rattling his hand. Sirius' grip on him tightened until his knuckles went white, but Remus didn't wince or give any indication he was hurting him, knowing that was not Sirius' intentions. Remus did glance meaningfully at Madigan as she watched their exchange warily. "Later."

Sirius finally nodded and released him, grimacing apologetically when he realized he'd left a mark on Remus' wrist. His voice was barely audible. "Sorry, Moony."

"I'm fine. See you in a few minutes." Remus managed a smile, but it didn't reach his amber eyes. Then he stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in a burst of green flames.

At least, with the Wolf so close to the surface, if anyone was at their flat, Remus would know immediately, Sirius tried to reassure himself, rubbing Madigan's back soothingly and bouncing slightly like he often did with Harry. He was relieved to find this worked on the child, and she, though clearly apprehensive about stepping into the fireplace, held him tight like he asked, and the world flashed in emerald green.

"Ready if you are," Remus stated, trying for cheerful, when Sirius stepped out of the fireplace. His shoulders were curved inward, tense, and he shifted from foot to foot like he wanted desperately to run.

There was that flutter again. Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Sure. It's getting late anyway; Madigan, we'll have to show you the flat another day. There's not much to it at the moment anyway."

Madigan nodded easily, checking her wolf for scorch marks. Finding none, she looked up at her new dads. "Are we going to light ourselves on fire again?"

Both young men genuinely laughed at this, shaking their heads.

"No, no, darling, we're not using the floo this time." Remus held out his arms, offering to take her since, with his Wolf still very much at attention, he was practically buzzing with magic. "We'll apparate to James and Lily's house from the landing."

"Oh. What's apparate?"

"It's like teleportation. You disappear from one place and appear at another location." Remus scooped her up.

"Honestly, it feels like being forcibly squeezed through a metal tube, but it's done in a flash." Sirius snapped his fingers for effect.

Madigan couldn't say that sounded pleasant, but she also got the distinct impression that a car or the Tube were not even a question. "Okay."

They slipped out of the flat, Sirius locking and charming the door behind them, glancing around for unwanted eyes, and disapparated with two sharp cracks.

Madigan squeaked when they appeared within the front gates of a small, white-brick Victorian manor with enormous, pristine lawns. Her eyes bugged, her little face tinged green.

"All right, darling?" Remus shifted her to look her over.

"It's okay; the first time is the worst," Sirius attempted to reassure her, fishing a hair tie from his pocket and hurrying to stick her wavy locks into a ponytail just in case she needed to vomit.

"'m okay," she managed, trembling.

"Moony! Padfoot!" An excited voice suddenly called from the front doors, and the trio looked up to see James Potter beaming at them, his wire-frame glasses slightly askew and his black curls as wild as ever. A flannel was flung haphazardly over one shoulder, his shirt untucked on only one hip, and his feet bare. A house elf scampered out past him, taking the duffel bag from Sirius.

"Thank you," Remus murmured to the small creature, who immediately gave a bashful but pleased smile.

"PRONGS!" Sirius yelled back, as if it had been years instead of an hour since he'd last seen James.

"That's Uncle James," Remus explained quietly to Madigan as they strode toward the front door, Sirius practically bouncing beside them. "He's Paddy's brother."

At this, Sirius and James, close enough to hear the murmur, both turned enormous, wobbly deer eyes on Remus.

"Remus…"

"James, this is Madigan. Madigan, this is Uncle James." Remus' eyes glittered, at last back to their soft green.

"Hello, sweetheart. We're so excited you're here." James immediately shifted his attention to the child. "Come inside, come meet Lily and Harry; it's starting to snow again."

They hurried inside as flurries indeed began to fall around them.

"The guest bedroom, Master James?" The little house elf asked, standing by the bottom of the curved staircase at the edge of the wide, open foyer with Madigan's duffel. Everything about the manor was light and open and elegant, like something in a dream.

"Actually, I thought Madigan could give Harry some company?" James looked at his friends and their new daughter. "Want to share a room for now, love?"

Madigan nodded. She much preferred the idea of having another child with her like she usually did at the care home. She hadn't met him yet, but she didn't mind that Harry was little, and she knew she wouldn't care if he was loud. That… that Night, was one of the few she'd had a bedroom to herself, and she didn't think she could do that again, wake up alone. "Please."

"In Harry's room, please, Maisy," James confirmed.

The house elf disappeared, and they moved on to the warm living room, where they found Lily sitting on the hearth rug with baby Harry giggling in her lap.

"Look who's home." James grinned, hurrying forward to sweep up Harry and free Lily to stand.

"Oh, hello!" Lily lit up and leapt to her feet, auburn hair flying around her shoulders, at the same time Harry spotted the newcomers and squealed, "Moony!"

James laughed at the exasperation on Sirius' face. Moony had, surprisingly, been Harry's first word and seemed to currently be his favorite to say. That incident had left James in stitches between Remus' shocked and mildly terrified face, Sirius' gaping, and Lily's jealousy.

"He's just mimicking James and Sirius," Remus had babbled frantically to Lily when he found his voice. "Or, maybe we misheard and he said Mummy. Mummy and Moony are very close."

That had been a few months ago, in which Harry had swiftly learned "Mummy" and "Daddy" and had settled on "Pafoo", no matter how much Sirius tried to get the seven-month-old to manage "Padfoot". Peter was currently stuck as… "Pee".

"Hello, Harry. Enjoying the weather?" Remus replied now, as casually as if Harry was an adult too.

Harry replied just as seriously in his gibberish.

"You're absolutely right; it has been snowing far too much this winter." Remus nodded.

Madigan watched this all with growing mirth and relaxation. Then she realized Lily and James were watching her with bright eyes and blushed beneath the hazel and emerald gazes. She raised a small hand meekly and ducked closer into Remus' shoulder, content to hide and observe from that perch, but then Sirius was reaching for her, and she didn't mind switching arms when they were so glad to hold her.

***

"Bloody hell, Moony; how does one hour feel like five?" Sirius stretched as Remus quietly closed Harry and Madigan's bedroom door behind them.

"Now, you really understand why James and Lily are always exhausted," Remus teased. They'd just gotten both Madigan and Harry to bed for the night. Madigan had been more willing, but it took Sirius about three readings and one dramatic reenactment of Peter Pan that Remus refused to be a part of before Harry at last drifted off, too.

"I don't know how they do it. Damn, I'm glad Madigan is older and reasonable." Sirius smirked. He adored his godson to no end, so he really didn't mind, and they all knew it. He was already just as crazy about Madigan, too.

"Well, luckily, now we can have our bedtime, too."

"That's true." Sirius turned gray, mischievous eyes up to his boyfriend, smile rather suggestive.

Remus chuckled. "You seriously have that much energy still? I'm exhausted just from watching that performance you gave."

Ever confident, Sirius replied, "What can I say? You can't keep me down long."

But then he stopped, suddenly trapped with Remus' hands on the wall on either side of his head. Remus leaned close, the tip of his nose almost touching Sirius' cheek. Voice low and husky, Remus challenged, "Are you sure about that?"

The bright blush filling Sirius' cheeks was so worth risking James or Lily or even one of the house elves stepping into the hall and catching this exchange. Sirius stammered, and Remus smiled slowly. Then he kissed the corner of Sirius' mouth, lingering just a beat, and straightened up and turned away.

"Remus Lupin, you are such a bloody tease!" Sirius whined but was grinning as he caught Remus by his cardigan.

 _Thud_. The little velvet bag from Aurora lay on the floor, fallen from Remus' pocket, and the atmosphere broke.

Remus snatched the bag a split second before Sirius could grab it and quickly disappeared into their bedroom, leaving Sirius to chase him.

“Remus, what is that?” Sirius shut the door behind himself and cast a silencing charm on the room. “Why won’t you let me see?”

“I--It’s noth--I need to talk to Aurora first.” Remus stuttered then shook his head, going to his coat on the chair in the corner and stuffing the pouch into one of the pockets. When he turned back, he nearly jumped out of his skin upon finding Sirius a step behind him.

“Why? What’s the big deal?” Sirius frowned, trying hard not to grit his teeth. Communication had never been Remus’ strong suit, and that had never been more evident than when he returned from Greyback’s werewolf pack a few months ago.

“I just want to have all the facts.” Remus shook his head again, distress and helplessness flashing across his face, something else, too. Terror? Sirius couldn’t be completely sure, but now his stomach was clenched and it took everything in him to not grab the young werewolf by his shoulders, shake him, and scream _Remus, it’s me! Just fucking talk to me!_

“Why can’t you just fucking talk to me?!” Okay, maybe Sirius didn’t have the most restraint.

“Sirius, please.” Remus had gone sickly white, purple shadows beneath his suddenly amber-streaked eyes like bruises. He ducked his head. “Please, not tonight. I will talk to you, but not tonight.”

Sirius bit back a frustrated growl. Instead, he snapped, “Fine.”

It would only be an hour later, lying in a different bed in one of the guest rooms, that Sirius would think of the pain lining Remus’ face, his hand reaching for him, and regret having stormed out of their bedroom that night. But apologizing was never _Sirius’_ strong suit, and he spent the rest of the dark hours tossing and turning.


	2. Broken Things

December 1975

The War. It was the one thing Remus and his father had really argued about. It started during Christmas break of Remus’ sixth year at Hogwarts, after Dumbledore had called the Marauders to his office a few days before they were off for the holiday and asked them to consider which side they stood on as the war would be sure to affect their lives after graduation. They knew which side they stood on, but it was James and Sirius immediately raring to fight. Peter was terrified. And Remus--what else did he have but his friends and a heart that grew sicker and heavier with each tragic headline in the _Daily Prophet_ and each student pulled from classes only to wail in the halls or return gray-faced and weeping? He knew he would stand with James and Sirius, and he would not back down from this decision. Not even when his father begged him to stay out of things.

“I’m not going to hide while my friends are out there fighting!” Remus had yelled, glad his mother was out having tea in muggle London with a few of her own friends. Raised voices were a rare occasion in the Lupin house, but they distressed Mum most of all. And she didn’t need to know about this horrendous war.

“I’m asking you to be practical and safe!” Lyall Lupin shot back, clearly frustrated, his mossy eyes red-rimmed.

“I _am_ being practical,” Remus snapped, his own eyes puffy from lack of sleep, the encroaching full moon and subsequent fever, and the wrenching of his heart that had started that day in the office and never let up. “You know as well as I do that with my condition, I have no prospects in the Wizarding World, and I have no qualifications for the muggle one either. But I can fight. And I will fight. I will protect my friends. I will protect you and Mum. And if I die doing it, so be it.”

Lyall couldn’t seem to respond, a storm of emotions passing through his face. Then tears spilled from his eyes, and he yanked Remus into a near-suffocating hug. Remus squeezed his eyes shut but was unable to stop a flood of tears of his own. So, he turned his face into his father’s shoulder and slipped his arms around his waist.

“I love you, Remus,” Lyall whispered into his son’s tawny, silver-threaded hair. “I love you, and I need you to _fight_ to _come home.”_

Numb and burning in agony all at once, Remus managed only, “I love you, too, Dad.”

No promises he couldn’t keep.

***

February 1981

Remus never thought the sight of a broken wand would make him want to puke, would leave him trembling and unstable and so damn scared. But there were all of those things, and the Wolf leapt forward in that state of whirling emotions. 

_I believe this is yours,_ Aurora’s note within the blue velvet bag read. _Watch your back._

Remus pulled his coat, layered over a cardigan and jumper, tighter around himself but couldn't stop shivering. There was a draft whistling through the mostly empty, old London tea shop. Remus had arrived almost a full thirty minutes early, and he'd walked through the snow half the way. He needed it, needed the mindless task to attempt to clear his head. When he'd woken up after a measly and fitful two hours of sleep, the bed was still cold; Sirius had not returned. Unable to go back to sleep, Remus took a hot shower, dressed, and went to check on the kids, too nauseated to spend the early hours searching guest bedrooms for his angry boyfriend. He supposed Sirius had every right to be upset; he knew he was being cagey and unnecessarily tight-lipped, but he just couldn't bear to explain, to think back and open those doors in his head that he'd fought so hard to lock. That didn't make waking up alone hurt any less. 

When he'd slipped into the kids' room, he'd found Madigan still asleep and Harry burbling to his stuffed animals--a stag, a dog, a rat, and a wolf, gifts courtesy of Sirius the day Harry was born. He was all too happy for Uncle Moony’s appearance and flailed his little arms to be held. Only ten minutes of asking and listening to Harry's "opinions" of David Bowie's versus Mott the Hoople's version of "All the Young Dudes" later, and Lily had slipped into the room. 

"Remus, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." Remus looked up and smiled. "Harry was already up, so we're discussing music."

Lily returned the expression as Remus passed her the wiggly infant, but it disappeared after she kissed Harry's head and turned back to Remus. "No, there's something else. You look sick, and we're not near the full moon yet. What's wrong?"

Remus dropped his eyes to his socked feet. He wasn't even surprised; Lily had always seen through him. But he didn't answer right away, glancing toward Madigan to check if she was still asleep. She'd scrunched up into a little ball around her pillow at the top of the bed, her blankets hiked up around her shoulders and head so only her face was exposed. She'd hardly twitched since he came in; she was probably sleeping off the various potions she'd received from St. Mungo’s over the week. 

"Had a bit of a row with Sirius last night," Remus finally admitted, keeping his voice down. But he still didn't look at Lily. He didn't want her to see the Wolf in his eyes. 

"A row? About what? Not Madigan?" Her eyebrows shot up, worry flickering across her pretty, freckled face. 

"No," Remus shook his head quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Not Madigan; she's perfect. It's…"

But Remus hadn't truly been able to find his voice anymore since he’d escaped Greyback’s pack, and James had come in, sleepily draping himself around Lily and Harry and pressing kisses to their cheeks. Well, after he'd surprised Remus with a tight and affectionate hug, mumbling a greeting into the top of Remus' shoulder. Ah, James Potter. Remus hoped the other twenty-year-old knew how much he loved him. 

After that, they'd gone downstairs for breakfast, where Remus only ate a few bites and poked at the rest of his food, too nauseous to appease his typically ravenous appetite. He could feel Lily casting concerned looks his way, trying to catch his eye, and, at some point, James must have noticed because he'd frowned and asked Remus if he was feeling all right. Ironically, it was Sirius who saved him from having to give another answer he didn't want to by appearing with Madigan latched onto him. With the five-year-old present, they couldn't really discuss the issue, so Remus threw on his overused mask and didn't take it off until he and James headed out at noon, James for an Order mission, Remus for the tea shop. 

"All right, Moony?" James had tried again, running a hand through his messy hair. 

Remus nodded. "Thought I'd see you off before I head into London."

"Cheers." 

When they apparated outside the Ministry, where James was to meet Moody and another Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, James gently grasped Remus' arm, hazel eyes heart-rendingly earnest. "Remus. I know things have been… difficult for you, to say the least, since your time with Greyback’s pack. But know that we all still love you to pieces, and you can come to us for anything. You're my brother, too, you know."

Tears blurred Remus' vision, and he came so close to breaking, the protective walls and locked doors in his head groaning and weeping under the pressure of his turmoil. But he swiped his sleeve quickly across his eyes and pulled James into a tight hug, not caring about the glances of those walking around them. Unashamed, James squeezed him back, held on until Remus was ready to let go, and they'd at last parted ways. Remus had walked from there, wandering for almost three hours through the snow. 

Now, Remus fidgeted in his seat, sniffling, and cradled his steaming cup of Earl Grey in an attempt to warm his stiff, reddened fingers as he waited. 

He knew when the nice waitress appeared with a small tissue box and sympathetic hand on his shoulder that he looked as much of a mess as he felt. She squeezed his shoulder. "If you need anything, let me know, love."

"Thank you," he murmured, taking a tissue as she left.

He had his head in his hands when the bell on the door jingled and raised it in time to see Aurora slip inside, her long, golden curls woven into several intricate plaits that melded into one giant braid curled over her shoulder. She was all wrapped up in a nice blue and silver tartan trench coat, white scarf, and practical, knee-high boots, an effortless mix of style and pragmatism that Remus mostly saw with Sirius. She was a young, half-blood witch like Remus, and she spoke once of her muggle father fretting about her involvement in the war. Sometimes Remus wondered why she'd chosen this too, knowing full well she could have done anything after Hogwarts. But, he supposed, the incident at Hogwarts at the end of his sixth year, her fourth, had pushed most of the students to decide then and there between fighting or seeking normalcy. And the thing he'd learned about Aurora that day was that she turned her pain and fear into fire; she _needed_ to fight against Voldemort much like Lily did. 

"Hiya, Remus." Aurora sat across from him, her scarf sparkling with tiny, silver shooting stars. Definitely not a muggle scarf then; he wondered vaguely if the muggles around them saw it, but she didn't seem concerned about wearing it out. 

"Hello, Aurora." Remus straightened up and took the teapot in the middle of the table to pour her a cup. The murky liquid had cooled just enough so the steam rose in thin wisps. 

"Cheers," she smiled, moving to fix her tea as she liked, and they were both quiet for a bit. 

She was tired, too. Remus could read it in the slight, unfocused glaze to her eyes, the tinge of lavender shadowing them, and the near mechanical way she moved. When she was done, she took a careful sip and set her cup back on the saucer. Then she reached out and grasped Remus' hand, which had been resting on the table. He hadn't realized it was visibly and uncontrollably trembling. 

"It's bad, isn't it?" Aurora asked softly, the glaze gone. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over Remus' knuckles. "I mean...I suppose I hardly have to ask that; you look like death warmed over."

"Ah, cheers, very much," Remus replied, sarcastic but quiet. 

Aurora flashed an apologetic smile and squeezed his hand. 

Deciding to cut to the chase, Remus gently pulled his hand back, reached into his coat, and produced the blue velvet bag. "Where did you find this? How?"

"The care home. They were doing a final sweep of Madigan's room to make sure they'd given everything to Frank when he went by earlier in the week, and they found the bottom board on her window removed, this laying on the sill." Her shoulders tensed. "There's a landline at my home, so we'd left them my number; I didn't expect they'd use it. I went by to pick it up yesterday morning. I'm honestly not sure how they knew it mattered."

"Perhaps it scared them. It smells like Wolf," he commented offhand, shaking his head. Nausea swirled through him, like poison in his chest. 

"I noticed." She nodded, crossing her arms over her stomach. 

"How did you know it was mine?"

"How could I forget? It was the wand you used to shield me back in school when Voldemort tried hitting me with the Cruciatus Curse." Her smile was pale, shaky. 

A good point; that day was burned into his memory too. 

"Greyback left this for you, didn't he?" 

"Yes." A shudder rattled his frame. 

"Seems he's warning you that you're on his mind." Aurora peered up at him cautiously, pretty brow furrowed. "He must have realized Dumbledore would call on you about Madigan."

"Who else would Dumbledore call?" Remus' smile was humorless, his voice hoarse. "I'm the only one of our kind in the Order."

"Remus...I don't want to overstep, but I want to understand what happened." She reached out again but only brushed the back of his hand with her fingertips. "If Greyback makes a move, I want to be ready to help you. But I need to know what I might be facing."

Remus stared at her for a long moment, a prickling in his tired, now-amber eyes. "Aurora, you don't owe me anything--"

"You're my friend. Maybe I'm not as close to you as James and Sirius or Lily and Peter, but I am your friend, and I'll have your back as you've always had mine. This is not about owing anyone anything." Aurora held his gaze. "You don't have to tell me everything, but I'd like you to tell me what's important. You know Dumbledore and Alastor play everything so bloody close to the chest; they told no one about your mission even after you went missing."

Finally, Remus nodded. "Okay. Okay."

She waited patiently as he took several deep breaths.

"Dumbledore wanted me to convince the werewolves to switch sides. I-I-I _tried_. But--" 

_Cage--_

_\--trapped--_

_\--taunt--_

_\--touch--_

_\--pain--_

_\--moon--_

_\--Where pack? Where mate?_

Remus shook his head in a way he knew was very canine, but he was too frazzled to care with the Wolf pacing behind his eyes. He reached for his tea but thought better of it when he realized he couldn't get a handle on his tremors. "What ha-ha-happened to me is not so important as some of the things I learned."

_Cage--_

_\--cage--_

_\--fight--_

_\--bad moon._

Remus rubbed a hand over his face. It was difficult to ignore the new scars there, angry red slashes from claws, irritated from the cold. One stretched jarringly from the inner corner of his eye, across the bridge of his nose, and reached nearly to his jaw. He didn't know when they would turn silver like the older ones. Worse still, he couldn't remember if they were self-inflicted under one of those full moons, or if they'd been courtesy of Greyback or one of his packmates. Either way, like any werewolf wounds, the scars would never fade away. He hoped that, as a part of his own pack of Marauders, Madigan would never have such a massive number of scars as he. Or, if she did, that they would not eat away her confidence, too. 

"What did you learn?" Aurora prompted, very softly, giving him the option of pretending he hadn't heard her. 

"Werewolves don't need wands. Not with the same reliance as wizards, at least. We can draw from a more natural magic--from our environments and the people around us who have magic to give." Remus was relieved to gain control of his stuttering. He hadn't really had a problem with it since he was thirteen, but the War made even poor Peter develop one whenever anyone mentioned Death Eaters. 

"Wandless magic." Aurora nodded, thoughtful and worried. She recalled seeing Remus do that several times at Hogwarts, usually little, silly things like making a third year Slytherin’s pumpkin juice fall into their lap when they wouldn't leave second year and anxiety riddled little Regulus Black alone. It was such a subtle move no one else knew it was Remus, but Aurora, newly sorted and trying to absorb everything around her, had caught the movement, a flick of his finger as casual as could be. If the rest of the Marauders hadn't been so rowdy and loud, she wouldn't have been looking and would have surely missed it. 

"Greyback--" Remus quickly turned an involuntary gag into a cough he covered with a fresh tissue. He cleared his throat to continue, struggling not to squirm and flinch like a possessed man. "You'll want to avoid a fight with him at all costs; he's significantly stronger than anyone I've met except Voldemort. If you have to face Greyback at any point, you need to be sneaky about it, which is made more difficult by the heightened sense of smell and hearing we have. Definitely don't get caught on a full moon; he’s trying to turn anyone he can get a bite out of."

"Right. So," Aurora touched the pouch, the broken wand in two uneven pieces within. "What is this? What does he want from you?"

Remus pursed his lips. "Greyback thinks a pack should always stick together."

"But you were never part of his pack." She frowned. It wasn't a question, which Remus greatly appreciated. 

"No. But because he bit me when I was a child, he believes that makes me his cub, and because he hates my father...I suppose you could say I'm his favorite." He looked away, examining the old, yellowed clock on the wall to avoid Aurora's face. 

"Bloody hell, Remus."

"I know."

"Who else knows besides Dumbledore and Alastor?"

She shifted in the corner of his eye, her coat rustling over her jumper. She was trying to get him to look at her again. He obliged reluctantly. "Sirius was there when I spoke to Dumbledore and Moody, and I'm sure he already spoke to James, Lily, and Peter."

"But did you tell any of them that Greyback is after _you?"_ Her eyes were piercing now, not mean, just sharp with focus and intent. 

"...not exactly."

_"Remus."_

_"I know."_ It took everything in him to keep his tone level, to not jump up and run out, run home. Sirius' frustrated face flickered into his head. "I'm--I'm _going_ to talk to them. I swear."

"Good. The more people you have aware of the situation, the better."

And that was that. Aurora didn't want to press anymore, and Remus sure as hell wasn't offering, so they finished their tea in a quiet that fell slowly from tense to companionable. 

When they were done, Aurora reached into her coat. "Thank you for meeting me, Remus. Let me get the check."

Remus shook his head. "It's all right; I paid ahead."

"Oh. Okay then. Thank you."

 _Thank James,_ he wanted to say, reddening ever so slightly. He'd had just enough for a couple of cups but went ahead and purchased a pot since he was so damn cold after wandering in the snow like an idiot for three hours. James thought Remus hadn't noticed him slip more money into his pocket earlier; he and Sirius were always doing that, never directly loaning him money because they knew he'd refuse it or insist on paying them back. It started in their second year at Hogwarts, when they realized most of Remus' belongings were used, passed down, and old, not to mention quite sparse in number. He had little pocket money to spare, and he wore all his clothes until they were ragged. Between Hope Lupin’s illness and Remus' frequent need for first aid supplies and potions, Lyall's Ministry job could only cover so much. And now, between the War and Lycanthropy, Remus had even less. 

"Going home then?" Aurora asked as she fixed her scarf and stood. 

"Actually, I think I'm going to head to the florist down the road, get something for--Madigan." Remus couldn't help but laugh softly at himself. The idea had come to him rather abruptly: bring Sirius flowers to say he was sorry. He remembered vividly, one particularly bad day before the first spring full moon in sixth year, hanging out with the Marauders at their favorite willow tree down by the lake. He'd been fighting to stay awake, burning with fever and fiddling with the pages of his book instead of actually reading it, too out of his mind to realize Sirius had been watching him. Until a light clearing of a throat brought him back into focus to find Sirius standing over him, gray eyes glittering and offering him a lovely yellow wildflower. Remus’ heart had swelled, and, as he accepted the daffodil with a blush under the full force of that Sirius Black smile, a gentle wave of peace settled over his aching body.

Remus snapped back to the present as Aurora asked, “Do you want some company?”

“Er, sure.” Remus moved quickly to hold open the door for Aurora, and they headed out into the cold. 

It wasn’t long before they were laughing their way through the floral shop, Aurora cradling a small, colorful bouquet of wildflowers like an infant in the crook of her arm while Remus searched high and low for yellow daffodils. He held them out for her to smell when he was triumphant, the pair beaming at each other, the stress of the wizarding world kept, momentarily, at bay.

“Wildflowers and daffodils; she’ll love them,” Aurora assured him, and they took them to the counter, where the shop owner gushed over how incredibly sweet Remus and Aurora were.

“How long have you two been a couple?” She pressed eagerly as she tied silky black ribbons on the bouquets.

“Two years,” Remus replied before Aurora could correct the woman, winking down at his petite friend when the fawning florist turned to grab a pair of scissors.

Attempting to smother a sharp burst of laughter, Aurora hid her face in Remus’ bicep.

“Ooh, will there be wedding bells in the future?”

Aurora composed herself enough to continue the silly charade. She hugged Remus’ wiry arm close. “Absolutely; I’m not letting this one go.”

The florist tittered and replied conspiratorially, “Gotta love ‘em tall, eh?”

“As a mountain,” Aurora agreed, mischief like fire in her eyes as she watched Remus chuckle and flush, shaking his head at their antics.

He fished out enough money, and, as soon as they were back out on the street, told her, “That was incorrigible.”

“You started it, Mister ‘Two Years’.” Aurora bumped him with her hip, feeling lighter than she had in...well, she couldn’t quite recall, but she was willing to bet Remus felt it too. He was holding himself more confidently, less defensive and stooping. She glanced around to make sure no one was looking and slipped her wand out, an ivory colored aspen wood carved with intricate spirals, and tapped the bouquets in Remus’ hands. “Reducio.”

“Ah, cheers.” 

The bouquets shrunk to a much more manageable size that Remus tucked carefully into his coat. Then he was laughing again. “Daffodils mean ‘new beginnings’; I should have told her you were pregnant.”

Aurora gasped in mock offense and smacked his arm. “If you had, I think she might have actually cried.”

“Maybe next time,” he teased.

“Definitely next time!”

“Then you have to wear a pillow under your blouse.” He poked her in the ribs, making her squeak and flinch into his side, grabbing at his long fingers to secure them so he couldn’t do that again. But he swiftly reminded her that he had two hands and soon found himself chasing her down the street, giggling and shrieking like they were little kids again. 

Bloody hell, he’d needed this. He didn’t even dread talking to Sirius anymore; in fact, he couldn’t wait to get home to him and was about to say so when Aurora suddenly bounced off someone and right back into Remus’ quick arms.

“Aurora Davenport, is that you?” A deep, pleased voice spoke. The young man it belonged to was half a head shorter than Remus, closer to Sirius’ height, and held himself with all the air and arrogance of a pureblood. He was swathed in dark robes, his teeth pearly and sharp, his nose aquiline, and his blue eyes nearly as pale as his neat, blonde hair. Remus immediately disliked him, and the reek of cologne and something acrid and irkingly familiar didn’t help.

Nor did the way Aurora pressed back into Remus, winding her arms around his like a silent plea for him to hold her close and safe. He instantly secured his hold on her, as if to ensure this man wouldn’t try snatching her away, and barely managed a polite smile as Aurora found her voice. “Baltizar, hi! I didn’t expect to see you out about muggle London.”

“Well, it’s not my usual haunt,” he agreed, turning a predatory gaze from Aurora up to Remus, distaste fighting to twist the corners of his mouth. “Oh, we’re being rude, aren’t we? Baltizar Yaxley.”

The wizard didn’t offer his hand and neither did Remus.

“This is my fiancé, Remus,” Aurora lied without hesitation.

Surprise and annoyance flickered through Yaxley’s eyes, and it hit Remus. That acrid scent clinging to the wizard was dark magic, recently used and growing stronger by the second, but not just from him.

“Protego!” Remus suddenly threw up his wand, twisting Aurora away, just as Yaxley cast a binding spell and someone sent a deep red hex right after, both blocked by Remus’ blue shield charm. But before anyone else could really move, the windows of the car parked against the curb blew out, sending a million glass shards across Remus as Aurora shrieked, protected as he curled around her, and they both hit the ground.

People were screaming all around, but someone was cackling, wild and high. “Oi, it’s Loony Lupin!”

“Loony Lupin?” Yaxley spat, moving toward the pair on the ground as more Death Eaters began to apparate in. He addressed Aurora. “You chose that penniless mutt over me?”

Instead of responding, Aurora thrust her wand toward him and yelled, “Flipendo!” and he went flying back into the car one of his friends had destroyed.

 _Shit, shit, shit!_ Blinking blood out of his eyes, Remus yanked Aurora up with him, and they took off running, ducking and weaving from hexes and curses and flying glass, and whipping around the street corner. 

“How many did you count?” she yelped, grasping his free hand tightly so as not to lose each other, given momentary relief when they’d made it out of sight.

“Four, maybe more.” Remus dragged her across the street, trying to calculate how quickly they could feasibly get to the Ministry from where they were. No, too far still, definitely too far, and best not to lead the Death Eaters into more heavily populated areas. “We need to disapparate now!”

“I’m shit at apparition; what if we get splinched?!”

“Rather splinched than dead! I’ll take us,” he assured her, conjuring their first destination in his mind’s eye. They’d have to make at least six trips to be sure they weren’t followed, an arduous task for wizards with more experience than the two of them. 

They held tight to each other, the sharp pierce of the teleporting magic coursing through Remus, and, just as they were starting to snap away, Aurora screamed, _“REMUS!”_

Yaxley had latched onto her arm, but it was too late to stop.

_CRACK._

***

“So, are you going to tell me about it, or are you just going to pout until Remus comes home?” Lily ventured, sitting on the patio chair beside Sirius’ to watch over Madigan and Harry playing in the little self-cleaning sand pit Remus had created and enchanted to mimic a piece of the beach as a Christmas gift. She honestly didn’t know how he’d managed it; he was barely two weeks escaped from Greyback, less than that released from St. Mungo’s. Yet he’d played his role as Uncle Moony perfectly but for the persistent tremors, the Wolf amber streaking through his eyes, and his inability to let anyone touch him. Lily had silently wept on and off throughout the day, watching him struggle and flinch anytime someone made a move toward him, even Sirius. But it had been Peter who had first seen through Remus’ act, to really notice how bad it was, big blue eyes bright with concern, and he always made sure Remus could see him if he needed to be anywhere near him. The others had been alerted shortly after Peter when Sirius caught Remus by surprise as he, out of habit, placed a hand on the small of Remus’ back, and Remus jolted so violently, he nearly punted Maisy into the fireplace in his blind panic to place distance between himself and everyone else. Upon realizing what he’d done, Remus disappeared and spent the next thirty minutes hiding in one of the bathrooms with Sirius leaning against the door, begging Remus to let him in and trying hard not to cry. Remus must have been working on piecing together a mask; when he finally emerged, he wouldn’t acknowledge what had happened and took everyone outside to give his present to Harry.

“Define _it_ ,” Sirius replied without emotion, drawing Lily back as he took a deep drag on his cigarette, which she hadn’t even noticed him light.

“Oi, children present.” Lily made a grab for the cigarette, but Sirius held it out of reach without looking at her.

He blew the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, and it curled up and away from them all. “Look, Lils, nowhere near the kids; let me be.”

“That’s a filthy habit, Sirius Black.” She frowned.

“Yep.”

“Remus quit,” she pressed, eyes unwavering on his still face.

“He did.” Sirius flicked some ash onto the patio and took another pull. “Quit smoking when he came back, quit drinking, quit talking to me.”

Lily nodded, finally turning her head to watch Madigan attempting to show Harry how to build a sandcastle while Maisy gathered snail shells as the five-year-old had politely requested. “I believe you’ve just defined _it_ for both of us.”

Sirius grunted and placed the cigarette between his lips. He waved his fingers ever so often, a bit of wandless magic to keep the smoke from approaching Lily or the kids. 

"Sirius. I know you're frustrated and this isn't what you want to hear, but you need to be patient with Remus. Three and a half months is a long time to be locked up and--” Lily squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Merlin only knows what Greyback did to him."

 _Greyback_. Sirius huffed out smoke like a dragon and crushed the cigarette in his hand, not flinching when the embers burned him. He dropped the mutilated bud into his cold tea cup and turned his hand to examine the angry red flesh. It would probably blister, but he hardly cared; he could always ask James for a salve when he returned from whatever mission he was out on. Heat flared in Sirius' chest. 

"I _hate_ not being able to help Remus. I hate that he's in _pain_ and I don't know how to _fix it._ That I don't know if I _can_." His hand curled into a fist, palm stinging at the pressure. "I want Greyback dead. For whatever the hell he did to Remus. For attacking him when he was a child. For hurting Madigan, too."

"We all do," Lily admitted, quiet but with such conviction that the blazing red of Sirius' vision faded slowly back to normal, and he finally realized something as he examined her tight eyes and clenched jaw. He wasn't the only one Remus was holding at arms' length.

"Paddy?" Madigan's voice suddenly startled him, right by his side. She'd left Harry in the capable hands of Maisy. 

"Oh, hello." Sirius quickly smiled down at her, shifting to give her his full attention. "What is it, Mads?"

 _Mads._ She decided she quite liked that and smiled softly back before following her impulse and climbing up to sit on Sirius' lap, leaning back into his chest, her ear over his heart. There was just something so soothing about that strong, steady beat. 

_Oh,_ Sirius thought, pleasantly surprised, and wrapped his arms around her. As she shifted to nestle more comfortably against him, he lowered his face into her soft hair and took a deep breath. Wildflowers and wolf. Cub and forest. Pack. Great Godric, he was really a father now. Even that little piece of him influenced by his dog form knew it, murmuring on quiet repeat, _cub, cub, cub_.

A small smile lit Lily’s lips, watching Sirius slowly but surely relax now he had Madigan in his arms. His taut shoulders lowered and curled to more fully envelope the child, his nose in her hair and his eyes shut peacefully, the furrow in his brow smoothing. Remus, James, and Euphemia and Fleamont Potter had all had that effect on Sirius, too, this magical ability to find him at his most wound up, pull him into a secure embrace, and ease all the tension and fight right out of him. Lily wished the Potters had lived to see this, to see their sons stepping up without hesitation to be fathers, to see their new grandchildren. She just knew they would be proud.

Lily stood and went to join Harry in the sandbox when she thought she heard the distinct _CRACK_ of apparition in the near distance. She wasn’t the only one; as she scooped up Harry, Maisy and Sirius both stood, listening and staring as if through the walls of the Manor toward the front doors.

Acting on some instinct she couldn’t explain, Madigan sniffed at the air, taking advantage of her height in Sirius’ arms. Books and woods and spicy-sweet musk. Something sugary-warm like honey and tea. Then came a sharp tang of copper, a heady reek of burning and of rot like the time Gid found a dead, mutilated squirrel in the yard and chased the other kids through the house with it. Madigan coughed violently, covering her face with her hands, and decided not to try that again. She didn’t notice Sirius follow suit, inhaling carefully through his nose.

“Ugh, shit.” Sirius shook his head. “Lily, let’s get inside. Mads--don’t say _shit_.”

They hurried in just in time to hear the front doors burst open, one of the other house elves’ squeaky voices frantically guiding someone toward the secondary lounge they’d been using as a makeshift infirmary for the past couple of years since joining the Order of the Phoenix. The noise suddenly disappeared as someone cast a silencing charm.

Madigan’s fingers had curled tightly into Sirius’ shirt, that coppery smell hitting her again. She knew what it was; how could she forget?

“Mads, Mads, I need you to stay with Maisy and Harry, okay?” Sirius had crouched to set her down, but couldn’t with her fists in his collar. “Mads, I promise, I’ll be right back. But I have to go see what’s happening.”

His hand brushed her cheek, and she knew by the slight tremor in it that he was as nervous as she was. She met his eyes, mossy green searching stormy gray. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for there, but, despite the rapid beat of her heart, she felt she’d found it and nodded, releasing him to take Maisy’s long hand.

“We’ll be back shortly,” Lily agreed, kissing Harry’s head before leaving him babbling in Maisy’s free arm, terror shining in her eyes, and joined Sirius in running to their little hospital room.

“Ow, ow, owowowow!” Aurora whimpered as Remus staggered, carrying her bridal style, to the nearest cot and unsteadily set her down.

And he kept going down until he was knelt, grimacing, by her side, and panted, “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize; I’m not the only one who’s been impaled.” She shook her head, wincing too. "Dunno how you managed to carry me all this way with that bloody branch in your side."

"It's not that deep," he mumbled, starting to slump forward slowly, eyes on the thick shard of bark embedded a few inches above her knee, when Sirius and Lily practically skidded into the room. 

"Moony!"

"Sirius!" Remus' heart skipped a beat as he twisted toward his boyfriend--which was not a good idea with a branch transfixed between his hip and ribcage. A strangled sound somewhere between a grunt and whimper escaped him. 

Sirius' heart dropped. Remus was slouched on the floor, pallid, face and hair and really his whole right side drenched and splattered in blood. 

"Merlin's tits! What happened?!" Sirius practically dove to Remus' side. 

"We ran into a group of Death Eaters," Aurora explained, trembling fingers hovering over her wound and Remus' belt tied tight above it. 

"But--you--shit." Sirius took Remus' crimson face in his hands, but Remus quickly caught his arms, biting back another groan. 

"It's not as bad as it looks. Mostly just scratches and cuts."

"Yeah, from glass and falling through a bloody tree," Aurora protested and pointed at the chunk of branch jutting through Remus' jumper. 

"Fuck!" Sirius all but lifted Remus into his arms to guide him to another cot while Lily darted to Aurora, worried eyes unable to settle on just one of their injured friends. 

"Ow! It's not--it's really not that deep, Sirius; most of the blood is from my head." Remus sat heavily on the cot and took a breath to assess his statement. His head throbbed sharply, his face and neck stung and oozed thinner rivulets of blood, and his side burned around the branch. But he’d had worse, definitely much worse. In fact, he was more concerned about the potential damage done to Aurora’s leg. “Aurora definitely needs James or Marlene.”

“You could _both_ use James; I’ll check if he’s available and send an owl for Marlene if he’s not.” Sirius remained knelt beside Remus, a hand on his thigh as if to reassure himself that Remus wasn’t about to disappear or keel over. It was an intimate gesture certainly not lost on Aurora, but Sirius didn’t notice, and Remus no longer cared. As Sirius pulled the small, two-way mirror from his back pocket, Remus placed his red-knuckled hand over his.

They finally found a bit of luck that day when James appeared in the mirror less than a minute after Sirius had stated his name and waited for the corresponding compact to warm to alert James, who was already on his way home after what turned out to be a reconnaissance mission. Since he knew he had two battered patients waiting, one of whom passed out as they were speaking, James swung by St. Mungo’s and picked up fellow healer-in-training Marlene McKinnon for an extra set of hands. Although, no one could really relax when Moody showed up with James and Marlene to hear about the incident; Sirius reluctantly moved away from Remus as James set to work on treating him and Marlene attended to the unconscious Aurora. 

Moody stared intently at an uncomfortable Remus as he explained the run-in, though Remus noted that the enchanted eye kept swinging around to Aurora, his body turned slightly toward the nineteen-year-old and tensed in a very… “worried dad” sort of way.

“What was the name of the wizard who approached you first?” Moody growled.

“Yaxley. Baltizar Yaxley.” Remus struggled to stay still and not flinch at the tingling and tugging sensation as James carefully waved his wand over the side of his face and throat, using magic to draw the many miniscule pieces of glass out of his skin and deposit them in a small tray with the chunk of branch from Remus’ now-bandaged side. He had refused to entirely remove his jumper, and James only stopped bothering him about it when he swore three times that he wasn’t hiding anymore wounds.

Moody grunted, dark eye narrow, the scars etched into his face seeming to twist with his scowl. “Must be related to Corban. Brothers or cousins, more ‘an like’. Know anything about him, Lupin?”

“Only that he must not know how to take _no_ for an answer.” Remus’ eyes flashed, lighting on Aurora then raising with subtle flame to Moody. “He knew Aurora, and as soon as she realized who he was, she told him I’m her fiancé.”

Everyone looked up at that, Sirius’ head whipping around to him, James’ eyes widening so comically that his glasses slid down his nose, and Marlene and Lily exchanging a chagrined look. But Moody was still, even the magic eye.

After a few minutes of quiet, the Auror finally spoke up again, electric blue eye rolled into the back of his head. “Lupin, your little one seems to have escaped the house elves.”

“Madigan?” Remus called, leaning slightly around James. Sure enough, one of the doors was cracked open, small fingers curled around the edge and big green and amber eyes peering in. He held out his left hand.

Relieved at the invitation, Madigan scampered over to her Moony with her stuffed wolf in one hand, climbed onto the cot, and burrowed into his good side. As his arm wrapped around her thin shoulders, she turned her face into the soft, beige cable-knit cotton. Moony was safe. Moony was safe, and Paddy was coming to sit by them, so everything had to be all right. Right? She tried hard to ignore that burning smell that clung loosely to Remus’ clothes.

***

Ultimately neither Remus nor Aurora were permitted to go home that night, and Moody only left after being reassured that they’d both be staying at the Potter manor, the Auror as unaware as everyone else that Remus, Sirius, and Madigan already technically lived there rather than at the London flat Sirius had bought shortly after they graduated from Hogwarts. But that was the point, and they knew Moody would have appreciated it if he knew. As Remus had pointed out a year ago, they were safer and stronger all together. 

“Are you really okay?” Madigan pressed Remus as he and Sirius walked her upstairs for bed, holding onto their long fingers with each hand.

“Definitely. Uncle James may look like a wild fu--nny disaster, but he’s a really good healer.” Remus narrowly caught himself; that would have been at least the tenth time he’d said “fuck” in front of her without thinking. Sirius was keeping a tally and shot him a smirk at the almost-slip. Remus responded by very maturely sticking out his tongue and briefly crossing his eyes. 

The laugh that escaped Sirius hit him so suddenly he stumbled, and Remus caught him by his sleeve with his free hand, eyes glittering. Oh Merlin, Sirius loved Remus, full of mischief and wit, foul-mouthed and sarcastic, yet always with those undertones of his unwavering kindness. 

With a quick kiss to Sirius' cheek, Remus scooped up Madigan, glad to note his side only twinged a bit, and ran off down the hall with her giggling. "Mine!"

"Oi!" Sirius immediately gave chase, and they spent the next minute winding and skidding through the halls, Remus at an advantage with his ridiculously long legs. Sometimes being five inches taller than his five-foot-eleven boyfriend was really fun to remind him. 

Sirius chased them all the way to her shared bedroom, catching Remus around the waist as they flew inside so they all almost tumbled onto the bed as Remus laughingly yelped and Madigan squeaked. He tossed her as they went down so she bounced safely on the mattress while he and Sirius crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, their hysterical mirth filling the air. It was a good thing James and Lily were downstairs working on convincing Harry to sleep. 

"Ack! Mads! Save me!" Sirius flailed, suddenly trapped in Remus' strong arms. 

"No, no! We can't let him escape!" Remus argued, grinning at her around Sirius' head as he caught Sirius' kicking legs with his own. 

"No escape!" Madigan shrieked and hopped down to land on Sirius so he was firmly squished between his two favorite people. 

"Oof! Agh! Traitors!" Sirius wailed theatrically, wiggling. Then he sighed and flopped back against Remus' chest, Madigan's head on his own. 

"Sorry, Paddy; you're ours," Madigan giggled, beaming up at him. 

"Forever!" Remus added, swiftly catching Madigan in his arms too and squeezing them both. 

Sirius choked mockingly. "Oh Merlin, a life sentence!"

"You love us really." Remus kissed his cheek and winked at Madigan. 

Sirius squinted down at Madigan, smile teasing. "Mmmm, I guess."

Now Madigan gasped in feigned offense and moved to roll off of them. 

"No, wait, where are you going?" Sirius lurched free of Remus' hold and snatched up their daughter, hoisting her up so they were perched on her bed together, leaving Remus to scramble after them. 

Remus handed Madigan her wolf plush as Sirius pulled her blankets up around her, the pair moving as a unit, as if they'd had her since she was born instead of only a little over a week. It just--felt like forever, they supposed. It felt right. Even if Remus still had moments of absolute panic when he thought that _he_ was responsible for a _child_. He certainly never thought that would actually happen. Or that he deserved one. But he would also remind himself that he could be good for her. Her first full moon was steadily approaching after all. 

He snapped out of it as the bed shifted, Sirius sliding off to his feet, and quickly leaned forward to kiss Madigan's head before following. "Goodnight, my darling. We'll be downstairs for a while if you need us, and our room is at the end of the hall by the stairs."

Madigan nodded, sliding down her pillows as she watched them go, shutting the door softly behind themselves, and she closed her eyes against the shadows. 

“You looked lost for a minute back there, Moony. _Are_ you okay?” Sirius stared at Remus, but he thought of what Lily said earlier that day. _Be patient_. Why was that always so hard? He chewed on the inside of his cheek to resist the urge to ask more questions.

“Yes.” But Remus stopped and turned to look at Sirius. He thought of the promise he’d made Aurora. “And no.”

Then he reached out and took Sirius’ hand, wordlessly guiding him to their bedroom to talk before they joined the others; Marlene was still there and Peter had shown up, so really they’d have no privacy or time once they went down.

Remus summoned his shredded and stained coat as they walked, only releasing Sirius to dig in the pockets when they’d closed the bedroom door. He pulled out the little velvet bag and placed it in Sirius’ hand, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his boyfriend loosen the strings and shake its contents into his palm. 

A broken wand. The wand Sirius had seen nearly every day for nine years causing both wonder and mischief in equal measure. The wand Sirius knew Remus had lost to Greyback. His fingers curled around the shards, and he turned sharp eyes to Remus. “How--where--”

“Madigan’s care home found it during their last sweep of her room and gave it to Aurora.” His eyes dropped to idly examine the collar of Sirius’ black band shirt. He swallowed past the swell of nausea in his throat. “Greyback went back to the care home and left it on the window sill in Madigan’s room for me.”

Sirius stared at him for a long moment, a storm brewing through every fiber of his being. Heat raced up his spine, seared through his chest to his shoulders, zinged along his nerves, and sparked in his fingertips. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. He threw the broken wand into the wall and dropped his burning head in his hands. “That bastard is coming for you.”

It wasn’t a question, so Remus didn’t say anything. He just nodded and flexed his shaking hand. More than anything, Remus wanted to find his old anger, the fire he’d always borne throughout his childhood and well into his teens at the very idea of Fenrir Greyback. For so long, he’d wished to avenge himself, his shit life, the agony of every full moon, the loneliness, the discrimination and prejudices that would leave him jobless and hopelessly wandering through adult life. Making friends, becoming a Marauder had eased some of that rage, but it never went away. Not when his parents looked haunted after each holiday moon, his father funneled his money into medicines and potions, and when he saw through bleeding eyes the tears his friends fought to hide whenever he transformed with them, skin ripping, bones cracking, body twisting. But then Dumbledore sent him to Greyback’s pack a few months after his twentieth birthday, barely a week or so after Harry’s birth, and those three and a half months wreaked havoc on every aspect of Remus, so he couldn’t quite reach that fury anymore through the pain and the terror. And he was so damn scared that it would take something unbearable for him to reclaim his wrath.

“You broke his pack in half; does he want you dead for it? Or…” Something worse? Sirius gritted his teeth. 

“I’m not sure. But I don’t think he wants me dead, at least...not until he’s had his fun,” Remus admitted but didn’t elaborate, fighting an involuntary shiver. No. Fenrir Greyback was a killer, but he enjoyed torment even more; Remus was living proof of that, though he had no doubt one day Greyback would strive to kill him where Lyall Lupin would watch helplessly. He shook his head and stood--and found himself wrapped tight in Sirius’ arms.

“I won’t let him take you again,” Sirius promised, voice slightly muffled in Remus’ neck but unmistakably raw.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his face into Sirius’ shoulder. His fingers curled into Sirius’ shirt, clutched at him like he’d fall if he let go. Merlin, it had taken so long to distinguish who was touching him and why, but, with Sirius’ musky scent of rain and electricity and the faint cling of cigarette smoke in his nose, Remus knew he was safe here, perhaps safer than he’d been with anyone before. Whole body trembling, Remus whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Remus Lupin,” Sirius replied, soft and without hesitation, pressing a reverent kiss to the curve of Remus’ throat. “I will always love you.”

They had no idea how long they held each other, but they needed it.

A splash of vibrant yellow against the brown of Remus’ coat caught his eye when they finally released each other, and Remus groaned.

“What? Did I hurt you?” Sirius hovered his hands near Remus’ sides, eyes flickering to the edge of white bandage he could make out through the hole in his dark green jumper, but Remus shook his head and went to his coat.

“I stopped by the florist and…” Remus retrieved the now crushed bouquets of flowers from his pocket and tapped them with his wand. “Engorgio.”

They returned to their actual sizes and lost a handful of petals.

Remus picked up the daffodils and turned to Sirius with a sheepish smile. “Wildflowers for Madigan and daffodils for you.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, a smile of his own lifting his lips.

“But I definitely landed on them when we fell through the tree.” Remus hid his flushed face in the wilted bouquet.

Heart swelling, Sirius chuckled and gently tugged the flowers away from Remus’ face to give him a real kiss. “Come on; we’ll put them in some water and get back to the others. I think Pete’s looking to get sloshed tonight, and I’d like to join him.”

“All right, but you better be cleaned up by the time Madigan’s up in the morning. Don’t want her realizing her Paddy’s a pisshead,” Remus teased. He narrowly dodged the cuff aimed at his ear and scampered out of the door with Sirius hot on his heels.

“You take that back!”


	3. No One Left Unscathed

June 1977

The Hogwarts Express had always been on time. At the end of each year, it would be resting at Hogsmeade Station, waiting for the students where one could just make out the vast castle over the thick cover of trees and rooftops. But, as the students exited their "horseless" carriages onto the cobbled streets of the wizarding village, the train was nowhere to be seen. An uneasy, confused murmur rose among the students. 

And then Remus smelled it. The faint tang of copper and something acrid, burning, rotting. He reeled, heart suddenly pounding as something distinctly animal--wild and musky--that was  _ not  _ the thestrals he could hear shuffling and shifting anxiously at the front of the carriages was carried on the breeze. He reached instinctively for his friends, as if to push them back into the carriages, his fingers grasping at the back of Sirius' shirt and Lily's sleeve. 

"Moony, what's wrong?" Sirius jolted him out of his voiceless, mounting panic.

"GET BACK IN THE CARRIAGES!" Remus screamed, wide green eyes streaked with frantic, Wolf amber and flitting around in search of Hagrid. "GET BACK TO THE CASTLE!"

_ Oh, Merlin. _ Hagrid would be arriving at the lakeshore any second with boats full of first years and the graduating sevenths. They wouldn't know--

"Moony!" James yelled, trying and just barely failing to catch the young werewolf as he darted toward the Black Lake.

"CONFRINGO!" Several male voices called out, and some of the carriages, luckily still empty, exploded, sending kids to the cobblestones, crying out, and thestrals into a panic. 

That wild animal scent grew stronger, and Remus, arms shielding his face from the spray of debris and wave of heat, was tackled to the ground. 

_ “Moony!” _ Sirius darted toward his fallen friend as the beastly man atop Remus punched him hard in the jaw with one hand and moved to slash with the other, but a black robed figure with a skeletal mask apparated in front of Sirius, and the young wizard barely ducked the green hex hurled at his head in time. 

“Stupefy!” Peter yelped, sending the Death Eater flying away from Sirius with a brilliant flash of red light.

The whole of Hogsmeade had erupted into sheer, bloody chaos. Carriages, stores, and homes blew up. The air filled with smoke, the multicolored lights of hexes and flares of shields, and children screaming. The older students had taken to fighting, led by the combined efforts of the Marauders and their friends--Remus in a legitimate, knock-down-drag-out fight with an older werewolf who somehow retained claws and unnaturally sharp teeth in his brawny, human form; Peter repeatedly casting  _ protego _ strong enough to deflect several spells at once; Sirius hurling the jelly-legs curse, bat-bogey hex, and knockback jinx with a wild abandon; James producing a brilliant stag patronus that charged the Death Eaters surrounding them; Regulus hurling  _ impedimenta _ and  _ expelliarmus _ through the mayhem; Lily shooting stinging hexes with Marlene by her side swinging her beater’s bat; and Mary, Dorcas, and Emmeline launching  _ mimblewimble _ and  _ colloshoo _ at any Death Eater they could see in desperate attempts to prevent their curses and trip them up so the younger students could flee toward Hogwarts. Even the unwounded witches and wizards who called Hogsmeade home emerged from their hiding spots and ruined homes to help. But the Death Eaters just kept coming.

“Vermillious!” Aurora, a fourth-year Ravenclaw, yelled, sending a jet of red sparks soaring into the sky and arching toward the distant castle. Her best friend immediately followed suit; the students had been taught recently that red sparks were for emergencies, a call for help. Surely, Dumbledore would see them. But Aurora would always wish she’d thought of it sooner.

A wizard with waxy, oddly distorted yet serpentine features and slit-pupiled, scarlet eyes apparated into the fray, green light bursting from the tip of his wand.

_ “Avada kedavra!” _

***

When Alastor Moody arrived early at Platform 9¾ to surprise his goddaughter, he found it in a confused and alarmed disarray. The train had clearly never left to pick up the students, sitting, completely shut down, on the tracks as the Hogwarts Express crew ran about in increasingly desperate attempts to fix it. Moody immediately sought out the conductor.

“What happened to the train?” 

The conductor turned wide eyes to the Auror. “The engine’s been frozen and someone broke the pistons. We’re still finding damage, too!”

He started to say something else, ask a question, but Moody had heard all he needed to. He stepped back on the platform, heart jumping. The train had been sabotaged, no easy feat or coincidental one these days. He didn’t believe in them anyway. 

“Contact the ministry; tell them what’s happened,” Moody ordered gruffly as he drew up the image of Hogsmeade station in his mind’s eye.

_ CRACK _ .

***

_ “Get off of him!” _ Emmeline Vance was the first of Remus’ friends to reach him where he was pinned to the street by Fenrir Greyback with claws twisting deep into his shoulder as he screamed, and she, despite having lost her wand in the madness, kicked the older werewolf in the ribs with all her might. 

Greyback grunted, barely jostled by the blow, but removed one hand from Remus to grab her ankle and shove her firmly backward so she stumbled and landed on her arse with an  _ oof _ .

Remus immediately took the opportunity to lunge up far enough to sink his teeth into Greyback’s forearm. Though his teeth were human rather than the more canine-sharp of Greyback’s, Remus bit until he tore through cloth and flesh and his mouth flooded with fresh blood. It was Greyback’s turn to scream.

When Emmeline attacked again, she wasn't alone; Sirius had made his way to them. 

"Flipendo!"

The blue ball of light hit Greyback in the shoulder as he grabbed a handful of Remus' tawny and silver hair, sending both of them rolling away. 

Remus released Greyback’s arm, teeth and mouth gleaming red, grabbing at the hand in his hair with one of his own and using his free one to get in a slightly clumsy punch to Greyback’s jaw while simultaneously kneeing him in the groin with all his might. Somehow, despite clearly being in a lot of pain, Greyback didn’t let go of Remus. In fact, he let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a raspy cough.

“Good to know they haven’t made you toothless yet, cub.”

Rage shot up Remus' spine, tingling like electric sparks through his skin. And something odd happened. That electric rage ignited something in Remus’ core, and the Wolf surged forward so violently that Remus  _ felt _ his eyes go pure amber,  _ felt  _ the Wolf straining beneath his skin and settling deep into his bones until they ached,  _ felt _ the heavy, metallic tang of cast spells swirling through the richer earth’s magic. Remus’ fingers curled like claws, and he was only just aware of Greyback grinning widely up at him, of Sirius and James shouting his name, of his friends struggling to reach him again as Greyback flipped them off the platform and onto the train tracks and Remus’ shorter fingernails gouged at the exposed flesh of Greyback’s neck.

Suddenly Greyback released Remus’ hair in favor of his shoulders, yanking him half up and swiftly slamming him back down. The back of Remus’ head bounced hard off one of the wooden boards, sending black stars spiraling through his vision, and Remus realized Greyback wasn’t here to kill him. This was some sort of test, and Greyback seemed pleased with whatever he’d found. Now, either Greyback would knock him out and leave the chaos, or he’d take Remus. Remus wouldn’t let either of those things happen without giving the fight his all.

Twisting and jerking in an attempt to throw his assailant off, a slight gleam in the corner of his eye sent Remus scrabbling with one hand growing slick with blood until it white-knuckled a now-unearthed railroad spike. He stabbed wildly at Greyback with a deranged cry somewhere between a scream and a howl. 

_ “Shit!” _ Sirius yelped as James caught his arm and yanked him back, out of the way of a sickly green spell that gave off the acrid reek of burning yet projected ice cold and had broken straight through the shield Peter had conjured to protect them on their way to Remus. The killing curse. It had passed Sirius by mere inches.

“Bombarda!” James threw the exploding charm into the Death Eater.

“Nice one, James!” Sirius panted, trying hard not to look as rattled as he felt.

“Keep moving!” Regulus and Emmeline flew past the pair, charging for the train tracks where Remus and Greyback were fighting like wild animals. 

Alarm zinged through Sirius at the crimson splattered on Remus, the railroad spike clutched in his bloodsoaked hand, and the flaring Wolf amber of his eyes. He’d seen Remus irritated, he’d seen Remus pissed off, and he’d seen Remus duel and fight, but this--the snarl on his mouth, the bared teeth, and the Wolf more present in him than Sirius ever knew was possible while Remus remained in human form--was nothing he’d ever witnessed from his friend. This was man and beast united in a deathmatch, and it made Sirius’ heart race, yet he was not afraid  _ of  _ Remus. He was scared  _ for  _ him, because Greyback was still stronger.

Greyback caught Remus’ wrist in one hand and tackled him back onto the tracks, no longer holding back. Though Regulus, Emmeline, and James were all shooting off spells, Greyback broke Remus’ arm with a swift and violent  _ SNAP _ .

***

_ CRACK _ . 

Alastor Moody apparated into the middle of a massacre. Children screamed and fought and fled toward Hogwarts, yet many littered the cobbled grounds of Hogsmeade alongside bodies of the locals, only a handful of them left with Rubeus Hagrid trying to protect the children. He thought he saw the towering figure of Aberforth Dumbledore sending a carriage crashing into a couple of Death Eaters chasing a group of little kids rushing to escape, but he hardly spared the old wizard a glance; Aberforth wasn’t who he was worried about.

“Deprimo!” Moody blew out the ground beneath the feet of more Death Eaters before they could overwhelm the handful of older students fighting them as he ran by, dark eyes flitting about the scene, desperate to find his goddaughter and praying she wouldn’t be among the dead.

Then a familiar voice cried out,  _ “REDUCTO!” _

A near-blinding flash of blue light promptly blew another Death Eater into a million gory pieces. Moody’s goddaughter was on the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching the arm of a familiar-looking, dead Ravenclaw girl with one hand, her aspen wand still raised and glowing from the curse in the other.

“Aurora!” Moody rushed to her side.

“Uncle Alastor,” she gasped, red-rimmed eyes widening.

Moody cast several more spells and reached down quickly to Aurora. “Up, little hawk, up; you have to get back to the castle!”

“No, no, I can’t leave Morgan,” Aurora cried, holding tighter to the blank-eyed brunette lying cold on the cobblestones. Morgan Atwood, Aurora’s best friend since their time began at Hogwarts. Though she knew Moody was right, that the smart thing was to run, she couldn’t just abandon the girl who’d always stood strong by her side.

Pushing down a wave of guilt, Moody grabbed Aurora’s arm, about to force her to her feet to make the run, which Hagrid and Aberforth were making safer already, but another sharp crack broke the air, and Moody tumbled to the ground with a spurt of blood.

Aurora could do nothing but gape for a moment, eyes nearly popping out of her head, burgundy sprayed across her pallid face. Her godfather had sprawled on the stones, still, blood gushing from his eye socket. Someone was moving toward them, striding with purpose and a crooked, yew wand in hand.

The movement snapped Aurora out of her stunned daze, and she blindly launched a knockback jinx at the encroaching, red-eyed wizard as she threw herself over her godfather. She had no idea if he was alive--there was so much damn blood--but she couldn’t leave either Moody or Morgan, wouldn’t no matter what. Her spell was easily blocked, and, as she twisted around to cast  _ protego _ , he disarmed her. Fingers tingling, totally exposed and weaponless, Aurora planted herself between Moody and Voldemort.

Amusement flashed through those cold, snake-like eyes. “Crucio!”

_ “Alarte ascendare!” _ Another voice called out, just a fraction faster, and the cobblestones between Aurora and Voldemort launched up in a sheet like a shield, promptly blasted apart by the crackling curse, though it was enough to absorb and dispel it.

The quick-thinking caster lurched forward to stand beside Aurora, wand raised in his left hand, his right arm dangling, broken at his side. Remus Lupin was a nightmare of blood and bruises, squinting against the steady stream down his face and heavily wounded, but he’d been freed from Greyback by the friends swiftly swarming him and Aurora. Sirius and Regulus Black, James Potter, Lily Evans, Peter Pettigrew, Emmeline Vance, Mary MacDonald, Marlene McKinnon, and Dorcas Meadowes helped form a circle around Moody’s prone body, and Aurora stood to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Remus, her godfather’s fallen wand in hand.

Voldemort gazed at the battered students curiously. Greyback climbed up onto the platform. Three more Death Eaters joined them. And not one of the students backed down--no. One was particularly terrified. He didn’t attempt to abandon his friends, but his wand shook in his hand and his eyes darted wildly about. He looked like a rat trapped by an alley cat. 

“I must say I’m impressed. So, I’ll give you children one chance to back down,” Voldemort started.

But four voices immediately shot back,  _ “Fuck you.” _

James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius glared at the dark wizard, already deciding on the spells they would cast.

Voldemort almost laughed. Almost.

“Crucio!”

“Glacius!”

“Protego!”

“Reducto!”

The air practically sizzled with the spells hurled in rapid succession. The teens worked as a unit like Voldemort had never seen before in ones so young. If he could just get into their heads…

Peter screamed and dropped to his knees, clutching at his temples.

“Pete!” Swiftly reaching out despite the arm being badly broken, Remus caught the other boy by the collar and yanked him behind himself, though he couldn’t stop to really check on him. Fortunately, that was the moment the Hogwarts professors, led by Albus Dumbledore, reached Hogsmeade, and, once out of the protective wards surrounding Hogwarts, Dumbledore apparated between his students and Voldemort. He did not hesitate to start driving off the dark wizard. Professor McGonagall blasted Fenrir Greyback away from the kids, following her jinx with a charm that sent silver chains that made Remus nauseous by proximity alone after the older werewolf. Even Professor Flitwick was there to chase off Death Eaters with a ferocity none of the students had seen from him before. And finally, they could all breathe.

Peter sat and hugged his knees to his chest, visibly trembling. James turned to Lily and pulled her tight to his chest, both grimy and panting. Marlene, Dorcas, Emmeline, and Mary all took turns clinging to each other. Regulus touched Sirius’ shoulder, silently checking on his big brother. And Remus collapsed.

“Shit, Moony!” Sirius whirled around at the soft  _ thud _ and dropped down beside the taller boy, panic flaring in his chest.

“Merlin’s beard,” Regulus cursed quietly as he too rushed to Remus’ side.

The young werewolf’s breaths were ragged and whistling in an odd way, his eyes nearly stuck closed by blood, which had soaked most of his white shirt, his right arm limp and twisted. Sirius fumbled with the buttons on Remus’ shirt to see the extent of damage, ignoring the weak hand that instinctively scrabbled to stop him.

“James, help!” Regulus called as Sirius revealed the slender, scarred torso was mottled with deep bruises.

“Oh, shit.” James hurried to them, and the girls ran off toward Madam Pomfrey as she arrived.

Remus’ bleary eyes drifted from his friends’ panicked faces and found a head of gold curls kneeling about a meter away before his vision was swallowed in black.

“Uncle Alastor?” Aurora whispered, setting Moody’s wand down by his side and gingerly placing her hands on his chest. Though they’d dried up during the battle, renewed tears pricked at her eyes and cold coiled in her gut. Then she felt it--a deep breath lifted the Auror’s chest.

“Hawk?” he rasped.

“Oh!” Aurora sobbed and clung to him like she was a toddler again, trembling and pressing her ear to his chest for reassurance. Morgan and Moody--but Moody’s arm was sliding over her back, curling around her shoulders, and holding her close. Aurora squeezed her eyes shut against her dark and deadly world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to work and classes, I'm aiming to update about every two weeks


	4. The People We Are & the People We Need

March 1981

_ Cold stones paved the slick floor beneath Remus, and his hands slid through warm crimson as he struggled to push himself up. _

Poor cub--

\--poor cub--

\--poor cub. 

_ The deep voice echoed all around, in the air, in his ears, in his head. _

No one’s coming for you--

\--for you--

\--for you.

_ Remus squeezed his eyes shut, made himself as small as possible, shrinking into the corner of his damp cell. He didn’t have to see to know Greyback was moving closer, his wild, acrid scent invading the small space, his presence like a heavy shadow pressing in. _

To them. You. Are. Expendable--

\--expendable--

\--expendable.

_ Hot, coppery breath rustled the fine hairs along Remus’ bruised and lacerated arms, which were curled over his throbbing head. He could see in the dark, but there was nothing about this that he wanted to see. Clawed fingertips traced one of the long scars winding from his wrist to his elbow, snagging several times on the ragged edges of fresh wounds breaking up the old scar, a sinister mimicry of Sirius’ reverent touch. And that voice, thick still with Remus’ blood, whispered near his ear,  _ Even Black won’t want you when I’m done with you--

\--with you--

\--with you.

  
  
  


“Moony?” Sirius rasped, blinking groggily at the sudden jolt of the mattress beneath him when Remus lurched abruptly out of bed, and half-tripped, half-ran into their bathroom. A confused glance at the little, antique gold clock sitting on the nightstand let Sirius know it was already nearly eight in the morning, five hours since they’d gone to bed despite feeling only like one. His eyes were still sticky and heavy, bloodshot from all the firewhiskey he and Peter had drunk. His mouth was dry, his head ringing. But it was Remus, who hadn’t had a single sip even in honor of his own birthday, puking his guts into the toilet.

“Moony, are you okay?” A smaller, muffled voice called, and Madigan popped her head out from under the blankets beside Sirius in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck!” Sirius startled so violently that he fell to the floor.

Madigan leaned over to blink at him owlishly. “Are  _ you  _ okay, Paddy?”

“Happy birthday, mon fille!” Sirius struggled not to flinch at the sound of his own voice stabbing into his brain.  _ Has she been in here all night? _

“Cheers,” Madigan smiled, warm and bright-eyed. Then she cocked her head curiously. "Are you hungover?”

“What? No!” Sirius spluttered, jerking upright and glancing toward the bathroom, where he could hear the toilet flush and the sink running. “Why would you think that?”

“Gid snuck out and got sloshed once. Ewan found him groaning in the loo in the morning. Made him toast and a cuppa.” The five--no, six-year-old, now, nodded matter-of-factly. She turned her head to follow Sirius’ gaze. “Ewan made that whenever any of us got sick, too. Said it’s simple and steady for an upset belly.”

“Sounds like a lovely idea.” Rubbing at his temples, Sirius forced himself to his feet, glad the curtains were drawn so no sunlight could further aggravate his throbbing head. He wobbled a little but reached out for Madigan. “Why don’t we go make that for Moony, figure out your birthday breakfast, and you can tell me what you’re doing hiding in the blankets like a goblin to scare me?”

As he flashed her comically wide eyes, Madigan giggled, tucked her plush wolf close, and bounced into his arms.

"Whoa! Are you sure you're a wolf and not a bunny?" he teased, hoisting her onto his hip and swallowing a wave of nausea. His voice only cracked a little, but, oh Merlin, did he need water. Ugh. 

"Well, hiya, loves!" James greeted them cheerfully when they reached the kitchen, Maisy the house elf beside him. 

"Uncle James!" Madigan immediately threw out her arms for the other wizard, who was all too happy to steal her from a glowering Sirius. 

"How are you human?" Sirius pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. He heard James chuckle, and slipped past him with a vaguely disgusted sound to grab a glass of water. 

Ignoring his hungover friend, James looked at Madigan and booped her freckled nose. "How old is our birthday girl, hmm?"

"Six!" She held up three fingers on each hand, including her thumbs. 

"Fantastic. Moony turned twenty-one yesterday, and Mads six today." James kissed her cheek six times, so the child became giggly and wiggly. 

Pushing her dark hair out of her face, Madigan smiled up at James and flopped back against his shoulder. Her little fingers brushed over his wild curls. "Paddy and I are going to make Moony toast and a cuppa; he woke up sick."

"Did he?" James glanced down the hall with a small furrow in his brow. "He was fine last night."

"Maybe it was the cake you insisted on making yourself. You don't bake, Prongs; you might've mucked it up and poisoned Moony," Sirius set down his cup and poked James in the ribs. 

"Gah!" James jumped and tightened his hold on Madigan so as not to drop her. "I'll have you know, Padfoot, I followed Mum's recipe to the letter!"

“Right, of course. You couldn’t possibly have misread anything with your  _ perfect  _ vision,” Sirius replied sarcastically, waving his wand over his shoulder at the kettle so it filled with water and began to boil. He winked at Madigan and Maisy.

"Still, if it was the cake, Moony wouldn't be the only one sick," James pointed out and gently set Madigan on her feet. "I'm going to go check on him; I'm sure I've got a good potion for the nausea anyway."

"Yeah, you would, wouldn't you? Thanks, Prongs." Sirius lit up with relief. As James started down the hall, he called after him, "Oh, and ask him if he's all right to come down for breakfast, or if he'd prefer we send it up."

"I will."

Sirius smiled down at Madigan. "You know, I was a little surprised when your Uncle Prongs told us he wanted to be a healer. I always thought he'd join quidditch professionally or something. But his choice has been making more and more sense in the past few years, and, Merlin, have we been benefiting from it."

Returning the expression with a slight blush, Madigan shuffled closer so she could lean into Sirius’ leg and peek up at him with Remus’ eyes. “What’s quidditch?”

"Oh, right! It's a wizard sport; players fly around on brooms and try to get balls in the hoops…" Sirius mimed tossing a quaffle and trailed off awkwardly but relaxed when Madigan laughed softly and nodded. 

"Okay, Paddy."

Sirius stared down at her, heart swelling, then promptly started ruffling her hair until she squeaked. 

"Paddy, no!"

"Paddy, yes!" Sirius dropped to his knees and wrapped one arm around her so she couldn't escape. "You'll look just like Uncle James!"

All the laughing and shrieking summoned the other hungover wizard in the house a moment later, and Peter shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. He slurred, "Are you torturing your child, Padfoot?"

"Wormy!"

"Save me, Uncle Pete!" Madigan slipped out of Sirius' hold and darted straight into Peter's pleasantly surprised embrace. 

“Don’t worry; I’ve got you, Mini Moony!” Peter swung her away and onto his hip.

“Oh, definitely worry,” Sirius grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Peter froze. “Oh, shit.”

“Better run, Wormtail!” Sirius yelled and swiftly transformed into Padfoot, sending Peter running with a squeak. Madigan giggled wildly, holding tight to Peter as he practically slid down the hall.

“Pads, please! I’m too hungover for this!”

Padfoot only barked in response, claws clacking on the floor. But the enormous black dog was skidding, too, and struggling to control his long, wiry body.

“Sirius, Peter, the piano!” Lily called out, running toward the top of the stairs frantically with Harry clutched to her chest and babbling.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Peter tried to stop, and probably would have if Padfoot hadn’t crashed into his legs. He and Madigan yelped.

“Arresto momentum!” Remus shouted, bounding up behind Lily with James and hurling the charm down the stairs.

The disastrous slide slowed, and the three barely stopped an inch away from the Potter’s antique grand piano, Peter clinging to Madigan and sprawled across Padfoot’s back.

The trio on the stairs sighed and groaned.

Remus rubbed his hands over his face, pale and dark around the eyes as if bruised, and headed down the stairs with James hovering at his elbow and Lily a few steps behind.

“Five minutes,” Remus sighed again. “We leave you all for five minutes, and you nearly die destroying a family heirloom.”

“Pads started it.” Peter immediately threw Sirius under the bus, frazzled. Padfoot playfully nipped at his ear then wagged his tail at his boyfriend.

“Sorry, Moony.” A sheepish smile spread across Madigan’s face as she climbed off of Peter and latched onto Remus’ leg. “Are you feeling better?”

“Well enough, my darling.” Remus couldn’t help but smile back as he brushed his long fingers through her hair, gently combing out the tangled waves. “Did you  _ sleep _ better?”

Madigan nodded, but she dropped her eyes.

“Oof!”

Padfoot lurched out from under Peter and butted his head into Remus’ leg and Madigan’s arms. Inwardly, he berated himself.  _ Of course _ she’d had a nightmare; how could he not think of that? It had to have been a bad one to send her to their room probably around three in the morning, and for her to stay there. He and Remus were usually able to calm her and set her back into a peaceful sleep in her bed. Why didn’t he think of that? Why didn’t he think to ask?

But he didn’t get to ruminate about it long and swiftly shifted back into human form as a knock came from the front doors. Maisy, clearly already having let whoever it was in the front gates with a little magic, hurried to answer.

“Hello, sweeties.” Aurora grinned, a magical gift bag with woodland animals bounding about in hand, her shooting-stars scarf looped loosely around her neck, and Lyall Lupin at her side. “Look who I ran into on the way up here.”

“Dad?” Remus’ eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Hello, Remus. I would've come by yesterday for your actual birthday, but I didn't know where you were staying." Lyall started, smiling softly, mossy eyes warm with affection, crinkling slightly in the corners. Then his gaze flickered to Madigan half hiding behind Remus, her thin little arms wrapped around his leg. "Who's this?"

"Um." Remus' hand was still cupping the back of Madigan's head, and he couldn't quite recall how to string words into coherent sentences. He spoke briefly to Lyall the previous afternoon on the telephone James had put into the manor for Lily when she'd first moved in, thanked his father for the light blue cable-knit sweater vest the old Lupin screech owl had dropped off, but he never mentioned staying at the Potter’s. So, how… Remus turned his head to look at Sirius.

A bright yet sheepish smile lit Sirius’ face, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, and a flush coloring his cheeks. He was avoiding Remus’ eyes. He had  _ completely _ forgotten--more than a little tipsy by the time Remus saw Aurora off for the night, Sirius had the brilliant idea of calling Lyall Lupin to head over for breakfast in the morning, and, of course, it was brilliant because they hadn’t told Lyall about Madigan yet despite having her for a month, and when better to meet her than on her birthday with the excuse of Remus’ to lure Lyall out to surprise them all? What could possibly go wrong? Sirius was honestly surprised that he’d a) remembered Lyall’s phone number, b) managed to work the muggle contraption, and c) apparently successfully spoken to and persuaded the older man to come over. Shit. Remus was going to kill Sirius; he hated surprises and “bothering”/”burdening” his dad, even though everyone else knew Lyall adored his son and would do anything for him.

Trying to help, Sirius placed his hand over Remus’ on Madigan’s head and started hoarsely, “This is…”

“Madigan,” they managed together.

Remus took a deep breath and clarified, “Our daughter.”

Lyall’s eyes widened, lips parting but no sound escaped. Everyone else was watching quietly. Peter had climbed to his feet with the offered help of Aurora, who shifted to hold onto Lily’s arm. 

“She--you--I--I have a granddaughter?” Lyall stammered, eyes filling with tears and an awed smile breaking out across his face.

“Yeah,” Remus murmured, relaxing, but the softness in his scarred face was marred by an aching sadness. He knew they were both thinking of Hope Lupin, of how excited she’d be, of how much she would love Madigan. 

Lyall strode forward and hugged both Remus and Sirius tightly before crouching down to Madigan’s height and holding out a large hand. “Hello, little one. I’m Lyall.”

“Hi,” Madigan whispered back, slowly peeling herself off of Remus’ leg to properly meet the tall, grey and tawny-haired fifty-two-year-old wizard. She reached out and gently grasped at his fingers, brightening the more she examined his kind face. “You look just like Moony.”

Lyall beamed.

No longer looking like he would die from sheer anxiety, Remus brushed his fingers over his dad’s shoulder. “We were just about to start Madigan’s birthday breakfast. We have a lot to talk about.”

***

Aurora was no stranger to returning home in the dead of night, exhausted and sore to the deepest recesses of her bones and her soul. She really should have known better to check her surroundings, but the muggle neighborhood was quiet and calm with the serenade of moonlight and crickets, and it had been a grueling few days of running and fighting and hiding, of hunting and being hunted with Alastor and Frank as her only companions; she hadn't been home once in all that time. In hawk form, she soared straight toward her front porch and, before her outstretched talons even brushed the pavement, shifted back into human form.

_ “Oh, buggering hell!” _ a startled voice yelped next door, punctuated by the sound of someone tripping over a potted plant and tumbling to the deck of their own porch.

“Oh shit, oh no,” Aurora gasped, tired eyes widening. A muggle. Her muggle neighbor.

“What the fuck?!”

Aurora darted across her front lawn and practically launched herself onto her neighbor’s porch, having a quick mental debate over whether she had enough skill to safely obliviate him herself, or if she should stun him and take him to Alastor. But something made her pause when she met astonished blue eyes, the young, freckle-faced muggle man gaping up at her, auburn hair all fluffed and disheveled. A white scar curled through his upper lip on the right side, another slashed through the arch of his brow. His fallen cigarette smoked gently by the doormat.

“How did you do that?”

Aurora blinked quickly, her wand in hand but not raised. “Um.”

Then he laughed, staring up at her with awe. “That was incredible.”

Heat surged up her neck and flooded her cheeks. No one had ever looked at her like  _ that  _ before, and she certainly didn’t expect praise. Finally, she managed, “Are you okay?”

"I--yeah. Are you? Did that hurt?" The young man shifted to sit up, still staring up at Aurora like she was a fantastical creature, which, she supposed, perhaps she was to him. 

"No, it doesn't hurt." Though butterflies swarmed her stomach, Aurora slid her wand back into its blue leather holster and offered her hand. 

He took it without hesitation.

"How did you do that?" he asked again, softer. 

"Magic." She couldn't help but smile back. 

***

“Remind me why we’re out in the bloody woods searching for an ancient shack to steal an old pureblood family’s signet ring,” Marlene groused, frowning as she pressed the tip of her wand to Peter’s palms and muttered a simple healing spell that closed the ragged scrapes on each. “And why we couldn’t go through the damn village.”

“Dumbledore wants this ring, says it’s important. I know as little as you.” Remus sighed, peering cautiously around the dark forest and listening for any movement beyond their own. The woods seemed… sick, almost. The earthen magic was tainted somehow, thick and sticky like tar, and made Remus’ skin all prickly; if he was the Wolf, his hackles would be bristled and standing high. “As for approaching from the village, it would only have cut out half of our trek through the woods, not to mention the fact that it simply isn’t safe.”

Peter’s pale eyes, glittering with anxiety and fear, followed Remus’ movements, as if seeking reassurance. Remus wished he could confidently give it.

“So, Little Hangleton has Death Eaters, hm?” Marlene gave Peter’s clammy hands a final once-over before releasing them, satisfied that the small injuries from his earlier sprawl over a particularly thick tree root were handled.

“Thanks, Marls,” Peter murmured, shifting cautiously closer to Remus. The Mediwitch nodded and crouched to scoop her satchel back up, slinging it across her chest.

“Perhaps,” Remus replied thoughtfully, inhaling deeply through his nose. Peter didn’t miss the amber streaks blazing to life through the mossy green of Remus’ eyes. “But there are darker things about, too.”

“Oh, Merlin, what do you smell?”

Terror lanced through Remus’ chest, but he clenched his fists and shoved down the nauseated panic twisting his stomach. “Werewolf. Greyback.” 

“W-w-we’re downwind from the village; he’s there, right? No-not in the woods w-with us?” Peter asked hopefully.

Remus nodded, his knuckles white on his wand. “The scent is faint enough to support that.”

“Hey,” Marlene whispered on the werewolf’s left side, fingers brushing his elbow. “It’ll be all right. There are three of us and one of him.”

“She’s right, Moony.” Peter nodded, coming to stand on his other side. Then, more uncertain, “Right?”

“Right.” 

They were quiet for a long moment, gazing out at the seemingly endless forest. A slight tug in Remus’ gut and little thrill sparking up his spine told him the waxing moon was beginning to rise.

Finally, Marlene heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. “I hate to say it, but we should set up camp. The sun’s set, and we’ve no idea how far or close we are to the bloody Gaunt shack. We’ve been searching since yesterday as it is.”

“Is that really a good idea with Greyback in the village?” Peter frowned.

“We need to rest,” Marlene insisted. She gestured at Peter then at Remus’ dark-shadowed eyes. “You’re already tripping over everything, and I know Remus hasn’t slept since we left London. And, I don’t know about you two, but I’m definitely getting blisters on my heels. Besides, in a few moments we won’t be able to see for shit.”

“I don’t want to be here another night,” Peter started to protest, distress etched into his face. “It’s bad enough we’ve already spent one out here.”

“How about a compromise?” Remus at last interrupted, letting his bag slide from his shoulder and  _ thump  _ softly to the ground. “We set up camp, put up a ward, and rest a bit, and I’ll head out to find the shack. I can see in the dark, remember? When I find it, I’ll come back for you two.”

Marlene shook her head. “I don’t like the idea of you going out there alone.”

“Not with Greyback so close, Moony,” Peter agreed softly.

“I can handle it. I’d smell him before he got to me.”

Though no one relaxed, Marlene and Peter finally nodded.

“All right.”

They weren’t exactly in a clearing, not a place for a proper tent, but the one they had wasn’t made by muggles. They squeezed a small wizarding tent between the trees, the size of a Hogwarts dormitory once you slipped past the flap. Remus stayed outside for another moment, carefully casting the strongest  _ cave inimicum _ he could. The protective charm bloomed from his skyward-swaying wand in a fine haze, morphing into a cool dome surrounding them before shimmering like mist and fading to translucence. No one would be able to hear or see them now; Remus hoped Greyback wouldn’t be able to smell them either, but he hoped even more that that wouldn’t be tested.

“Remus?” Marlene poked her head out of the tent, dark blonde hair wildly curly now that it was freed from its braid. “Come on; Peter’s making beans and toast, and I expect you to sleep for at least an hour before you head out.”

“I don’t know that I can, Marls,” Remus admitted, apologetic and exhausted. Though he, along with every aching muscle and bone in his body, knew he needed sleep, his mind was wired.

Stubborn, Marlene grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the tent. “You must try, or you’ll start hallucinating soon.”

“I’ve got at least two more days before my mind turns on me.”  _ More than it already does _ . Remus ground his knuckles into his eyes then glanced around the simple but wonderfully large interior. They had a kitchenette, a small loo complete with its own shower, and real beds. Damn, wizard camping was the best.

The three ate huddled together, sitting on some plush, red and gold cushions.

“Leave it to Prongs to have a Gryffindor-themed tent,” Peter commented, smiling a bit.

Remus and Marlene laughed softly.

“You know,” Marlene glanced toward the beds. “The bedspreads look practically identical to the ones from our dorms. Do you think he nicked some?”

“Doubtful.” Remus flicked his wand toward a record-player he noticed perched on a small table nearby. The drawer slid open, a record floating out of its sleeve from within, and the needle lifted to allow the black disc to settle into place. “He probably charmed the house elves.”

There was a little crackle, then David Bowie’s voice filled the tent.  _ The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars _ . 

“So, that’s where Sirius’ album went,” Remus murmured. He couldn’t explain the lump that grew in his throat. Between the dorm-likenesses decorating the tent and the music that had ruled their years in Hogwarts, especially those first few… They had only graduated three years ago, but it was a world away, a bright place where their happiness far outweighed their fears and their woes.

Remus didn’t realize he was crying or that Peter and Marlene were watching him with tear-swollen eyes of their own until Marlene stood and held out her hand to him. It was a silent request. Any other time or place, Remus would be too flustered, but he swiped his sleeve across his wet face and accepted. Marlene pulled Remus to his feet, away from the cushions, snagging Peter on the way, and began to dance. It wasn’t eloquent or sophisticated or even necessarily in tune to the rhythm, but none of them cared. Their hysterical laughter was half sobs, mourning their lost childhoods, the growing numbers of their dead, and the uncertainty of their futures. Everything was grim and funny the way only dire, desperate times can be. 

“There's a starman waiting in the sky

He'd like to come and meet us

But he thinks he'd blow our minds

There's a starman waiting in the sky

He's told us not to blow it

'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile

He told me

Let the children lose it

Let the children use it

Let all the children boogie...”

It ended with Peter sniffling on the cushions, and Remus and Marlene holding each other tight, slowly swaying to “Starman”, tears trickling down their cheeks.

For the first time since he was five, facing only his third full moon, Remus whispered, “I’m scared.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Marlene’s arms tightened around his waist, her face turning into his chest as she hiccupped, a fresh wave of tears soaking his shirt, though he paid it no mind. 

Peter turned despairing, puffy eyes on him. “Me, too, Moony. I’m fucking terrified.”

Nodding, Remus ran his fingers through Marlene’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before hiding his face there.

It was only a few songs later that Remus went and showered to clear his heavy head. When he emerged to the start of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide”, he gathered a few things like his wand and a Wideye Potion--Marlene didn’t even protest that he hadn’t bothered trying to sleep--and slipped out of the warm tent. Remus took a deep breath, head nearly floating on the voice of David Bowie drifting through the tent flap.

“No matter what or who you've been

No matter when or where you've seen

All the knives seem to lacerate your brain--”

Remus stepped through the protective barrier into silence and trekked off in search of the Gaunt shack. 

Though the moonlight barely managed to pierce the thick, tangled canopy, Remus had no problem navigating. His pupils had dilated drastically, forcing his amber irises into thin rings to absorb every ounce of light possible, and he moved low, stepping softly and steadily toe to heel with the lithe, practiced quiet of the Wolf.

Head buzzing slightly from the Wideye Potion, Remus hoped Marlene and Peter wouldn’t worry if they realized he’d left his shoes and bag just outside the tent, opting for only his wand, which he used to draw on the scent of the surrounding trees and foliage, guiding the earthen musk to mask his scent. It was a trick he’d only used a few times before, one he’d been taught by Celia Muñoz, a young, Muggleborn witch whose family had just moved to England from Spain; she’d barely seen her sixteenth birthday when she’d been bitten and, only two days later, been kidnapped by Greyback, who claimed he could take better care of her than her family.

  
  
  


September 1980

_ “You’ll get out of here, Remus Lupin,” Celia whispered, her Spanish accent thick with anxiety, though she tried hard to reassure Remus, who sat, slumped and bleeding against the wall of his small cell. Her fingers curled around the end of her sleeve and tore it without a second thought. Then she slipped a slender hand between the bars, using the worn material bunched up in her grasp to dab the blood away from his bruised eyes.  _

_ Remus struggled not to flinch, though he’d come to associate his young, consistent visitor with sunlight and warmth. She frequently crept down into the abandoned, underground bunker in the early mornings, and he could smell the sun’s heat settled pleasantly in her dark, unkempt hair and scarred skin even as they were swathed in shadows. Celia was much stealthier than most of Greyback’s pack, amber eyes betraying a quick wit and bright curiosity. Remus’ speech he’d been surprised he’d been allowed to deliver had caught her attention and, despite his imprisonment, she’d decided to place her hope in him. He was sure he didn’t deserve it, not when he was locked up and spent half his days hallucinating and drunk on the metallic tang lacing his saliva from busted lips, the shredded insides of his cheeks, and the frequent bloody noses. But still she hoped to find safety under Dumbledore’s care, a way to return to her family, some way to be free of Greyback through Remus. _

_ “‘ll try,” he rasped like always, but his head was floating and throbbing, her hunger-slim face bobbing in his hazy vision. _

_ Celia nodded, seeming satisfied that he wasn’t giving up, and set down her torn sleeve to place a tin cup within his reach. She cast a wordless, wandless spell to fill it with water, the swirl and swell of her magic passing cool and soothing across Remus’ torn, fevered flesh. He shuddered, allowing his eyes to droop closed. _

_ Barely a moment later, he heard her shift, rocking back onto her heels. “Remus?” _

_ “Hmm?” he managed, forcing his swollen eyelids open again. _

_ “I want to show you something. For when you get out of here.” Her eyes glowed with determination, and she stood. “I know you intend to go home, so you’ll be separated from the rest of us seeking to leave, and Greyback will likely choose to go after  _ you _. There are a lot of woods between here and other people.” _

  
  
  


Remus stopped and settled into a crouch to lower his head between his knees as his chest tightened violently and he fought to keep his breathing even. Static numbness and cold sizzled through his veins and crackled along his nerves. The hair on his nape prickled. His vision blurred and burned. In spite of his best efforts, he crumpled to the forest floor, gasping for air.  _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you anymore than you could save me. I’m so sorry, Celia. _

It took Remus far too long to get a hold of himself, but, when he did, he wiped his sleeve across his eyes to see it--mostly hidden by the tangle of tree trunks and wicked nettles, stone walls layered with moss, missing most of the roof tiles, and with tiny windows covered in cracks and grime was the Gaunt shack. Remus pushed himself to his feet and snuck a bit closer, taking a moment to examine it and shove his time with the pack back into the locked doors in his head.

The magic was heavy and darker here, acrid. Someone had placed wards around the shack, something that urged Remus to run as if it were a beast instead of a busted and abandoned old house. It was a twisted version of the concealment spell protecting Hogwarts from adventurous or nosey muggles, combined with other enchantments that would have to be unwound layer by layer. 

Perhaps it was the Repelling charm, or his hyper-awareness that Greyback was around, but Remus decided to turn back for Marlene and Peter before he tried anything. He did promise to go back for them once he’d found the shack after all.

He made the return journey in a tense sprint, staying mostly on his toes, aiming for patches of grass and mud to cushion each footfall and lessen the risk of stomping along twigs and crispier foliage. The fine mist of rain starting to come down helped. It didn’t stop his legs from twinging and aching, but he hardly paid it any mind; this form wasn’t the most conducive to stealth, but the Wolf pushed them onward in this manner, assured that they were quieter than any other human that may dare enter the wood. 

The tug in his gut told him he was near his protective barrier at the same time his skin prickled and the Wolf shifted closer to the front of his mind to warn him Greyback was approaching. Heart skipping a beat, Remus lunged through the shield, the magic tingling through him like static electricity but not resisting its caster. And he found himself standing practically nose-to-nose with Fenrir Greyback. 

When Lyall Lupin had deduced that Fenrir Greyback was not a muggle tramp but a werewolf in 1965 by appearance and behavior alone, the rest of the committee had dismissed him. Remus wondered how they never saw the Wolf in his eyes; each time he met Greyback, he never held the beast back. Gleaming yellow eyes met terror-stricken amber that blinked rapidly against the steadily growing rain and the soaking tawny and silver locks hanging down just past his furrowed brows. Remus' lungs constricted, his jaw clenched, and his heart picked up an uncomfortable, pounding pace. He couldn't move, didn't dare to even shift back on his heels as Greyback sniffed the air, mere inches between them. But the ward held. It fucking held. 

Remus stumbled and nearly collapsed when Greyback turned from the invisible barrier and disappeared between the trees. The breath that escaped Remus was almost a sob, but he held himself together with a white-knuckled grip. 

"Moony?" Peter peeked out of the tent, summoned by the strangled sound. 

"I found the shack," Remus blurted, whirling toward his friend. Marlene emerged as he added, "We need to go now, quick; Greyback is out here with us."

The color drained from Peter's face, and Marlene’s eyes went hard.

“All right. Let’s gather our things and head out. Why the hell aren’t you wearing shoes--you know what, not important.”

The trio moved swiftly, shrinking, folding, and packing the tent into one of their bags, double-checking they had everything, and took off, Remus leading the way through the trees. 

Between the rain and the late hour, Peter and Marlene couldn't really see where they were going at all, so Remus reached back, offering his hand, and Marlene quickly grabbed it then held her own out to Peter. They hurried along in a line, fingers intertwined to secure their holds on each other. Remus was practically dragging Marlene and Peter along, his long legs eating up the terrain like nothing, his steps more sure, leaving them no choice but to trust him.

Then a deep howl rose somewhere to their left, mocking and threatening. And it  _ wasn’t  _ Greyback; Remus didn’t recognize this voice.

“Fuck,” Remus cursed under his breath. They’d been made, and they took off running, the wind, the rain, and the lower branches whipping and stinging at every bit of exposed skin. It was Peter who struggled the most to keep up, nearly dropping them all several times as they flew half-blind through the woods. Every nerve sparked, each harsh heartbeat feeling like a beacon, calling out  _ we’re here, come get us _ . The Wolf did not take kindly to being prey; it surged forward with a growl, claiming Remus’ eyes and pressing into his burning muscles and sore bones, so even his jaw hurt as if his teeth would elongate and sharpen into fangs. It was as close to the surface as the bristling Wolf could be. 

_ Danger. _

_ Fight. _

_ Kill. _

_ Defend. _

_ Kill threat. _

_ Protect Wormtail. _

_ Protect pack. _

“Remus!” Marlene yelped, red-faced, and he realized he was starting to crush her hand.

Luckily, they reached the enchanted barriers around the Gaunt shack, and Remus released Marlene before he could break her hand or run them into the shields.

“Bloody hell!” Peter panted, reeling.

“Break them down,” Remus ordered, wand already out. The cypress wood practically hummed and crackled as it channeled the excess of magic the Wolf provided Remus.

They spared no time unbinding the protective charms. Cracks like spiderwebs bloomed in a faintly visible green dome. A final, well-aimed counter-spell from three wands combined busted the defenses like glass.

“Go, go, go.” Marlene charged forward, easily breaking the old door open with a strong kick next to the door knob. “Peter, keep an eye out; Remus, help me search.”

“Catch,” Remus replied, pulling the pair of Probity Probes Moody had given them before they left London and tossing one of the golden rods to Marlene.

“Thank Merlin that Mad-Eye works in the Ministry.” 

“Yes, very good,” Peter squeaked, trembling by the door. “Please, hurry; all I can hear is the rain.”

“Shit. Switch with me.” Remus passed the Dark Detector to Peter and took his place, sending the other wizard running farther inside. Peter was fantastic on watch, but Remus had the better senses between the two. Plus, he knew more spells. “Cave intrusus!”

The Intruder Charm shot out and latched onto the trees surrounding them like a giant spider web, shimmering, then translucent.

“This place is tiny; where the fuck could a ring be hiding?” Marlene gritted her teeth, trying hard not to shake but all too aware that they were the prey here.

“I don’t kn--oof!” Peter tripped over the wrinkled edge of a moth-eaten rug and sprawled onto the grubby living room floor. His Probity Probe rolled away and suddenly began to vibrate and give off a pale, yellow glow. Peter let out a short, hysterical laugh and scrambled forward. “I think I’ve found it! Marls! Moony! It’s under the floor!”

Marlene ran to Peter, and Remus started to, but then his wand shuddered and the intruder charm released a scream-like alarm that raised the hair on his nape and arms.

“Grab it; we have to go, now!” Remus switched directions and emerged from the front door in time to see a lithe, gold-eyed werewolf approaching. “Flipendo!”

“Pete, move!” Marlene warned, raising her wand, but Peter quickly caught her arm.

“Don’t! What if you destroy the ring?” He grabbed the rusty fire poker and jumped violently when Remus shouted and blue, yellow, and red lights began flaring and soaring around outside, illuminating the cracks in the walls.

Marlene snatched the poker from Peter and began to hack at the floorboards, quickly discovering that they were rotting like the rest of the shack. “I’ll get it; help Remus!”

Peter jerked his head in a nod, but it took him a second to get his feet to obey and carry him toward the door.

“Protego!”

“Stupefy!”

“Expulso!”

Blue light shattered the twisted trunk of a towering tree, and it promptly crashed through the roof of the Gaunt shack. Marlene tackled Peter from behind and right out into the wild, weedy excuse for a lawn, both narrowly avoiding being crushed.

_ “Reducto!” _ Remus flung the curse into the copse between their two attackers, neither of whom were Greyback, as he darted to Peter and Marlene. The blast sent the two men diving to the ground.

Marlene shoved a small gold box into her pocket as she scrambled up, splattered in mud, and Remus caught Peter by the elbow to haul him up, too. 

The air whooshed out of Remus’ lungs as he found himself thrown and pinned to the ground, gleaming yellow eyes above him with a sharp-toothed grin. “Hello, cub.”

_ Bad-- _

_ \--pain-- _

_ \--Wolf-- _

_ \--hurt-- _

_ \--cage-- _

_ \--Wolf-- _

_ \--hurt! _

It took everything in Remus to not scream and panic; his vision blurred as his amber eyes bugged, and he wasn’t sure if he was blinded by tears or simply the rain, but Greyback’s hand was closing around his throat, his clawed thumb pressing under Remus’ chin, sharp tip pricking the skin as he forced the young werewolf’s head up to expose his throat.

_ “Flipendo!” _

_ “Stupefy!” _

Two voices rang out simultaneously, and the pressure and weight were gone, Greyback tumbling off and growling. Peter and Marlene each grabbed one of Remus’ arms, and they were running again. Greyback was on their heels. They wouldn’t make it.

Then Remus heard it--the roar of a river. 

Catching Peter and Marlene’s hands, Remus veered to the right, a hiss of pain escaping him as claws shredded his bicep right through his soaked coat, but hell if he was stopping. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a strong swimmer; it was their only chance of losing Greyback. All he had to do was keep his head above the water.

Peter and Marlene must have caught up with Remus’ head. Both threw jinxes and charms over their shoulders, enough stunning spells to knock out an elephant, and, finally, they began to distance themselves from Greyback and broke through the trees to the riverbank.

Then the two others appeared, and everyone was on the ground.

Someone caught a fistful of Remus’ shirt, dragged him several meters through the mud before he could get his bearings, and hauled him to his feet as he finally caught his assailant’s wrist. Gold eyes, not yellow, set in a young, scarred man’s face. And he looked desperate. He backed Remus up a few steps, and Peter and Marlene began to yell, fending off the other and pleading with the gold-eyed werewolf to stop--because there was nowhere Remus could retreat anymore but open air. Yet, Remus could not bring himself to attack, and not just because doing so may be suicide in his current position. His Wolf saw  _ something  _ in the man’s.

“Celia told me about you,” the man rasped, his voice harsh with disuse. “Remus Lupin. Greyback’s favorite. The rebel. The one who speaks of hope and peace.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Remus admitted softly. A part of him was scared that Peter and Marlene would hear and not understand, but he meant what he said with every fiber of his being and pressed on. “I don’t want you to  _ be _ hurt, or locked up, or killed because Greyback uses you as Voldemort uses him.”

They never once broke eye contact. The man’s brows furrowed, his mouth twisting into something akin to a grimace, and his jaw set. 

“I hope you can swim, Lupin.”

The hand clenched in his shirt tightened, the other came up to Remus’ stomach, and both combined swiftly shoved with an incredible force.

_ “REMUS!” _

_ “MOONY!” _

That frozen heartbeat of mid-air suspension sent panic flitting across Remus’ face, left him reaching and grasping nothing, and reminded him that nothing terrified him so irrationally as heights. Then someone was screaming--not Remus; he didn’t have enough breath to--and he was falling, flipping, drenched in the spray of roaring water--

_ FWOOSH _ .

An endless cloud of bubbles and a beating pressure forcing him down, down, down into the turbulence until he couldn’t discern up from down and his lungs burned and threatened to burst. Black stars fizzled into his vision, and he thought he might have bounced off stones and silt but water was rushing up his nose and down his throat and--

An arm wrapped around Remus’ waist, someone tugging him, kicking off of the river bottom. But Remus couldn’t keep his eyes open. He was burning and floating, the Wolf howling in his head.

“Moony!” Peter yelled as they surfaced, both arms around his best friend now. Between the rain and the rage of the river washing them away, bobbing in and out of the water, Peter couldn’t clearly make out Remus’ pale, scarred face, though he did hear Marlene shouting and coughing nearby. Voluntarily leaping down a waterfall had to be the craziest thing Peter had ever done. Well, at least in his top five. He strained to face the dark sky, clinging to Remus’ limp body, squeezing Remus and kicking to keep them afloat. 

Remus had never been a good swimmer. Hell, he barely swam, even when James wrangled them all to visit beaches and lakes and rivers over holidays. Peter still remembered the weekend in their second year at Hogwarts when Sirius threw Remus off the pier into the Black Lake as a joke, and Remus flailed like a cat, unable to keep his head above water; they thought he was pranking them at first, but James, late since he’d been watching the Gryffindor quidditch team’s practice, ran down the pier and dove right in after a genuinely drowning Remus, yelling at Sirius and Peter that Remus had never learned how to swim. Thoroughly mortified, Sirius had taken it upon himself to teach Remus how to swim. None of them understood how it never quite worked, though Remus learned enough to survive calm waters. This river was far from calm.

None of the half-drowned trio noticed the sharp cries of the sparrowhawk soaring just above them. But they stopped rushing helplessly down the river, caught against an enchanted net of ropes that shifted like tentacles to wrap them up and pull them toward the shore. Several familiar, strained faces came into focus as they scrambled through the mud to free themselves of the river.

“Dorcas!” Marlene gasped, swept up and clutched close by her girlfriend.

“All right, Pettigrew?” Moody grunted, grasping Peter’s arm to help haul him completely out of the waters, Frank by his side and trying to take Remus from Peter. 

“M-M-Moony,” Peter managed, teeth chattering from the terribly low temperatures of the river and the rain and wind.

“I’ve got him, Peter; you have to let him go,” Frank urged.

Peter wasn’t sure if he’d managed to convince his fingers to obey Frank, or if Moody had had to pry them from the young werewolf, but Frank laid Remus on his back as a sparrowhawk swooped down and landed as Aurora beside them.

“Remus!” She dropped down by his head, tensed to start attempting to resuscitate him, but Remus coughed weakly on his own, water trickling between his violet lips.

Forcing his eyes open halfway, Remus wheezed and slurred, “‘rora?”

“I’m here, Remus,” she sighed, leaning down so their foreheads touched. She whispered, “You’re not going missing on a mission again, not if I can help it. None of us will.”

Her promise played on a loop in Remus’ fuzzy head, and he was vaguely aware of Peter resting his own head on Remus’ hip, of Marlene nearly passed out against Dorcas, each of them more exhausted and battered and deeply chilled than words could do justice. None of them bothered counting how many times they were apparated to get from the riverside to St. Mungo’s. They cared more about the drying spells and heated blankets and shelter. And all Remus could think about was Celia Muñoz’s hope and Aurora Davenport’s promise.

“Don’t.” Remus quickly stopped Dumbledore from so much as taking the ring out of its golden box when he snapped into awareness. He honestly couldn’t say how long his former headmaster had been there, talking to a croaky-voiced Marlene and shaken Peter. 

Dumbledore and Moody both looked up at Remus. 

Blinking quickly to bring himself more focus, Remus explained, “That ring reeks of dark magic. You don’t know what it could do.”

“Kid’s got a decent point, Albus,” Moody murmured.

Dumbledore seemed… disappointed? But he nodded, turning the box about in his hand before snapping it shut. “Quite right, Mr. Lupin. Get some rest; you’ll be able to go home soon. You all did excellent work today.”

And that was it. No explanations, no questions, nothing. Something deep inside Remus, behind one of his locked doors, burned with irritation and rage, too well secured to escape.

Remus spent the rest of the night floating, dreaming of eyes--gold, amber, yellow--and promises made in the dark.

***

Regulus Black wanted nothing more than to go home. But it wasn't the right time yet, certainly not a safe one, and he didn't quite know where that was anyway. Not when home was the people he loved most, people who thought he'd betrayed them and abandoned them for his parents' wicked, pureblood beliefs. However, Dumbledore had said it was better this way; if the other Marauders were kept in the dark, if Regulus had no obvious ties beyond his parents, then his true, chosen family could not be used against him or put themselves in harm's way for him. Yet the pain was unbelievable. Even when Sirius had left home and moved in with the Potters, Regulus had never felt so alone. He wondered how much Sirius hated him…

"Master Regulus," Kreacher gasped when he entered the study. "Master Regulus, please, stop!"

"What?" Blinking quickly, Regulus looked down as Kreacher darted forward and grasped at his wrists. Regulus had pushed up his left sleeve, scratched at the Dark Mark on his forearm until it began to bleed and continued to gouge at the flesh that made him feel so filthy until chunks were building up under his fingernails. And he'd been too lost in his thoughts to realize. It wasn't the first time. 

Kreacher snapped long, knobbly fingers, summoning supplies to clean and wrap Regulus' mutilated forearm as the twenty-year-old swallowed a wave of nausea. The old house elf grumbled, "The young master must stop hurting himself before the damage becomes permanent."

"I don't feel it when I'm doing it, Kreacher," Regulus admitted softly, dark gray eyes shimmering wetly, anguished and desperate. His resolve waned again as he saw the Marauders in his memories--grinning, laughing, lovely, kind. Though their kinship was kept private for Regulus' sake--the Slytherin, the one without the courage to flee 12 Grimmauld Place--their bonds were stronger than any other Regulus knew. They'd done so much for each other, after all, accomplished things together that took adults with more experience more years than the Marauders. But he couldn't seek his family out yet. He needed to complete his mission, or none of it would be worth it. And he was close: find out what each of Voldemort’s Horcruxes were and where they were hidden. He'd already been able to send information to Dumbledore about Marvolo Gaunt's ring and--Salazar Slytherin’s locket. But, after Kreacher's tortured testimony about the location and defenses, Dumbledore decided they wouldn't make a move toward it until they were ready. Regulus wasn't sure when that would be. He just hoped that the Marauders would forgive his lies.

"Master must take better care of himself," Kreacher replied simply, frowning. "Or Master will never make it back to his blood-traitor brother and Mudblood friends."

This yanked Regulus fully out of his head to turn a sharp, alarmed gaze to Kreacher. "What?"

"Kreacher knows they matter to Master Regulus. Kreacher has always known. Kreacher does not understand, but he knows." The house elf shook his head, grim and vaguely uncomfortable. 

Regulus' heart raced. "Who did you tell?"

"No one, Master Regulus." His droopy ears practically flapped from shaking his head so quickly. "Kreacher is happy to keep kind Master Regulus' secrets, even when he does not understand. Master Regulus is safe with Kreacher like Kreacher is safe with Master Regulus."

Tears blurred Regulus' vision, swelled and trembled unshed in tired eyes. He rasped, "Thank you, Kreacher."

One ally. He had one ally in this  _ Noble and Most Ancient House of Black _ . 

***

"All right, all right. Question for Remus," Mary mused, wand in her hand and hip resting against the doorway as she considered her security question, though she was clearly unbothered since Marlene and Peter had already passed and slipped inside Potter manor to sit with the others in the lounge. 

Sirius was perched on the edge of his chair, practically buzzing with the urge to jump his boyfriend in relief that he was safe and home after nearly three days. 

"Oh!" Mary lit up. "I've got it: who was your first kiss?"

Immediately, heat rushed to Remus' face, and he stammered. He knew who Mary and the others expected him to say, but that wasn't his actual first…

It didn't help that his first was also blushing but clearly trying hard not to giggle. 

"Oh, Merlin." Remus rubbed a hand over his burning face. He was never going to live this down. He met glittering hazel eyes over Mary's shoulder. "James."

Peter spewed tea and even Lily choked on her own. 

"What?!" Mary practically screamed with shocked and delighted laughter. Everyone thought the answer was Mary, of course. To be fair, the group hadn't really known Remus was queer until the end of sixth year, so he'd only mentioned Mary. 

_ "What?!" _ Sirius gaped and gasped like the utter drama queen he was and whirled on a slyly smiling James.  _ "You _ snogged  _ my _ boyfriend?!"

"He wasn't your boyfriend at the time, Padfoot." James winked at Remus.

Marlene nearly slid out of her chair from laughing so hard, saved only by a giggling Dorcas. Emmeline had to reach over and smack Lily's back a few times as she coughed and spluttered, tears streaming down her face, but her expression beaming mirth. 

"Right. Well." Torn between laughter and the desire to die, Remus stepped inside to join everyone and suddenly found Sirius clinging to him, pulling him down into a passionate kiss as if to prove that Remus was a hundred percent his. Remus hummed in half-hearted protest at the display, flush deepening in his freckled cheeks and reaching down his neck up to the tips of his ears. But he gently grasped Sirius by the hips and kissed him back before straightening up. 

"Mine," Sirius warned the room, still hanging off of Remus. His eyes glittered teasingly, a smirk on his lips.

"Silly tosser." Remus swatted Sirius' side as they released each other, though Sirius linked their hands. Remus had to resist the urge to card his free one through Sirius' hair as he realized Sirius had cut it short again, though the perfect coif atop his head was longer and would surely flop into his silver eyes without product. Remus didn't get to enjoy the fresh view long though with everyone still in stitches over his personal revelation. 

“Oh, Remus, please, you have to tell us how this kiss happened!” Lily begged, tittering against James’ shoulder.

“Um.” Remus’ eyes flickered to James’, mirthful hazel going soft and warm.

  
  
  


October 1974

The second Gryffindor boys dormitory was quiet with Sirius Black’s vivacious personality and loud mouth off in detention with Peter. The pair had been caught bewitching the suits of armor around the castle to sing muggle Halloween songs Remus had shown them, while James and Remus were prepping the real prank: casting a spell that would turn all the stars in the enchanted ceiling into large, furry silver spiders that would rain down during the Halloween dinner feast and spray webs of purple, orange, and black all over the great hall. They were harmless, of course, just messy and intimidating enough that the test one Remus had transfigured in their dorm one evening made a distracted Sirius scream when James flung it onto his bed.

Though they were down two friends for that Friday afternoon, Remus and James were quite relaxed together, each flopped on their beds, smiling and laughing as they talked about how epic Halloween would be. But, eventually the conversation shifted, and Remus fiddled with the cuffs of his sweater sleeves as he listened to James waxing poetic about Lily Evans.

“You’re friends with her, aren’t you, Moony?”

Remus nodded, filled with fondness at the thought of the fierce redhead who had marveled over the enchanted ceiling with him as they entered the Great Hall for the first time and cheered when he was sorted into Gryffindor with her. He’d been a mess of nerves, but each anxious flick of his eyes brought him back to Lily, confident and reassuring and so remarkably kind to the scrawny, sickly boy she didn’t even know.

“That’s brilliant, mate.” James smiled dreamily, and Remus couldn’t resist launching a pillow at the other fourteen-year-old. “Ack!”

They both giggled.

“All right, I get it! Enough Evans talk,” James relented in mock exasperation. He tossed the pillow back and rolled onto his stomach to beam at Remus, glasses slightly askew. “So, what about you, Moony? Any birds catch your eye?”

Though he knew the question was friendly, cold anxiety shot through Remus’ nerves and his smile faded. He stared at James for a long moment. James, who hadn’t hesitated to absorb Remus into his friend group, even when Remus tried to keep a distance. James, who had discovered Remus’ deepest, darkest secret and didn’t even consider deserting him or turning on him. James, who had shown Remus how to be a kid and never hesitated to provide him love and acceptance. Acceptance.

“Moony? You all right?”

Remus sat up slowly, shifted so his back was against his headboard, and hugged his knees to his chest in an attempt to keep his heart from punching through his sternum. “James… I… I’m not…”

James sat up, too, hazel eyes bright with concern.

“There are loads of lovely girls around here, like Mary and Emmeline,” Remus managed hoarsely, a deep flush rising from his neck through his cheeks. He couldn’t look at James anymore. He didn’t want to see his best friend’s face when he told him, didn’t want that judgement seared into his brain forever. But he’d started, and he needed to get it off his chest before he exploded. It had been nearly a year now since he realized, and he was desperate for someone to talk to… “But there are loads more blokes around here who have caught my eye…”

Silence. Remus began to tremble from the weight of it. Oh, Merlin, he’d definitely miscalculated, pushed James too far, showed James there was too much messed up with him, and James was surely disgusted and would out him to Sirius and Peter, and none of them would want to talk to him again or sleep in the same dorm or--the bed shifted as James sat down in front of Remus, brushing gentle fingers through his tawny hair.

“Oh, Moony, you don’t have to look so scared. This doesn’t change anything.” James tilted his head down to try to meet Remus’ stricken eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. There’s  _ nothing  _ wrong with you; this is just another piece of who you are. And you know who you are?”

Finally, Remus peeked up at James, vision wet and blurry.

James’ smile was so soft. “You’re my Moony, and I love you no matter what.”

The terror and uncertainty gave way to relief and adoration with an inadvertent sob. James immediately wrapped his arms around Remus, gently tugging him out of his defensive position and holding him tight. He rubbed small, soothing circles into Remus’ back with one hand, stroking his curly hair with the other. Remus clung shakily to James, hiding his wet face in the other boy’s shoulder. Bloody James Potter, always better than Remus believed he deserved.

“Moony?” James whispered after a while of unabashed cuddling. His head was resting on the top of Remus’.

“Hm?” Remus cracked open puffy but dried eyes, relaxed and content in his friend’s embrace.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

A laugh more akin to a scoff escaped the young werewolf. “No, James, and I don’t imagine I will.”

“Why not?”

“Because the only people I truly, fully trust sleep in this room.” 

Remus felt James nod.

“A first kiss should be special; you should trust the person you kiss, love them, and they should love you--I mean, that’s what makes it special, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Remus agreed quietly.

Then James straightened up, slowly enough to give Remus time to sit up too, and met his eyes. “Do you really trust me, Moony?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Remus raised an eyebrow and rubbed away the remaining tear-tracks on his cheeks. But he nodded.

James nodded too. “Close your eyes.”

Remus examined James for a second, the earnestness shining in his gaze, and obeyed.

Ever so gently, James reached out and cradled Remus’ face in his hands. When Remus stayed still, James leaned forward and pressed his lips to Remus’. The other boy’s hand came up to rest on James’ arm, and he kissed James back. It was a soft, sweet, lingering kiss, and James smiled at Remus when they parted. They were not  _ in _ love, but they loved each other very much--James made Remus feel safe--and that’s what made Remus’ first kiss perfect.

  
  
  


“I was having a rough time, and James wanted me to feel better,” Remus at last replied, shrugging like it was simple. He supposed, in a way it was. But it meant the world to him, and it remained one of his favorite memories to date. The look in James’ eyes told him the other wizard felt exactly the same. It had been James’ first, too.

“Wait,” Peter piped up, blue eyes bright with mischief. “Am I the only Marauder who hasn’t kissed Moony?”

“Sounds like it, Wormy. Even Reg stole a snog that night we all got drunk and started throwing around dares.” Sirius smiled, but his eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and anger. Then he grinned in an absolutely devilish way. “Want to remedy that? I’ll give you a free pass.”

“Excuse you,” Remus started, twisting to cast an incredulous look at his boyfriend, but Peter had hopped up, caught Remus’ shoulders, and pulled him down into a kiss. 

The room erupted into laughter, and Remus genuinely thought he would die of embarrassment, especially when Peter released him and commented, “Oh, wow, Moony’s lips are so soft!”

“Yeah, they are!” Sirius and James agreed enthusiastically as one.

Remus promptly lifted his middle fingers and swung them around at everyone. Then he pointed at the Marauders. “You wankers are lucky I love you.”

“Awww, Moony!” All three surged up and dog-piled Remus, dragging him to the floor with a yelp.

***

It was the middle of the night when Sirius’ eyes flashed open in alarm, though he was too groggy to know what had woken him at first. But, after a second of adjusting to being awake and quietly clinging to Remus, it hit him. Remus was shivering and twitching in Sirius’ arms, little muscle spasms rocking his lithe frame. 

Moving slowly so as not to wake him, Sirius pressed the back of his hand to Remus’ forehead like James and Madam Pomfrey often had. His temperature was rising. The small, soft sounds escaping Remus were pained. Heart beginning to pound, Sirius lifted his own arm and turned it to peer at the enchanted tattoo inked into his forearm. The waxing moon was almost full. It would complete its swell within a few days. Madigan’s first full moon.


	5. Psychomachy

March 1981

Madigan sat bolt upright with a sharp gasp, ivory teeth still flashing behind her eyes and Ewan's screams in her ears, but the rest of the nightmare was quickly lost in a haze. Sweat trickled down her temple, and she quickly wiped it away on her blue pajama sleeve, slowly becoming aware that her whole body was trembling and aching. That was odd; she’d felt fine earlier. She lifted her hands and watched for a moment, perturbed, as they shook and her fingers twitched without permission. It wasn’t a sharp pain, more sore and uncomfortable, but she certainly didn’t like it. She clenched and unclenched her fists a few times before pushing off her covers and sliding out of bed.

There was a soft, inquisitive trill and keen, lime green eyes peering at her from Harry’s crib, glinting in the pale nightlight’s shine. Ozymandias, Auntie Lily’s cat. Madigan ambled quietly over, glad to note that the movement helped ease the weird little spasms in her legs, though she was still a bit unsteady on her bare feet. 

The large, ginger creature had curled up beside Harry, who was fast asleep with an arm slung over the cat’s shoulders. Ozymandias’ head rested on Harry’s belly, and he purred at Madigan when she carefully slipped an arm between the bars and stroked slowly between his ears. She wondered how he’d gotten into the room with the door still closed. Maybe Paddy or Uncle Prongs had come to check on them, and Ozymandias sneaked in with them.

“Madigan,” someone whispered.

Ozymandias went still under her fingers.

Startled, Madigan glanced around the room, but there was no one. Even the gold lions in the wallpaper were dozing in the late hour, and the small, shimmering ball with wings that Uncle James had told her was a snitch when he noticed her gaping at it flitting around the red paint had made a nest in one of the lion’s manes. A minute ticked by in silence, then two. Harry sighed in his sleep. Finally, Madigan decided she must be hearing things but was still uneasy enough that she decided to go to Moony and Paddy. She wondered vaguely, as she stepped into the hall, why the nightlight was cool blue instead of its usual, warm yellow.

The baseboards gently glowed a pale cerulean when Madigan emerged, shuffling hesitantly toward the bedroom at the end of the hall nearest the stairs. She didn’t like bothering anyone at night; she hadn’t done that at the care home, and she’d only done it the one time here because Moony and Paddy’s bedroom door was open when she crept out on her own, Moony had still been awake, and he’d somehow known she was there. She had told him what she could remember about her nightmare and was so comfortable in his arms that she couldn’t bring herself to leave, so when he offered to let her stay, she’d accepted and slept better than ever tucked safely between Moony and Paddy. But the door was closed tonight when she found it.

Though Moony had told Madigan she could come to them anytime she needed anything, she couldn’t bring herself to knock. Instead, she inched closer--and caught a tangy, cloying scent that made an unfamiliar voice in her head murmur,  _ Sick. Hurt _ . Frowning, Madigan pressed her ear to the door. 

_ Hurt, _ the voice whispered again.  _ Moony sick. Moony hurt _ .

He was in pain, soft, Wolf whimpers faint through the door. Madigan reached for the knob.

“Moony, Moony, hey. It’s all right. Try to relax, mon loup.” 

Paddy was awake.

The anxious tension in Madigan’s slender, shaky shoulders eased. Paddy would take care of Moony.

Madigan shifted back, rubbing at her twitchy arms, and peeked down from the top of the stairs. As far as she could tell, none of the house elves were about. She chewed on her lip for a second then made her way down. Her skin was all prickly, something stirring in her head, the owner of that voice, pacing on four paws. 

_ You're different now, little one,  _ the healer at St. Mungo’s had whispered when she woke the first time as they finished wrapping her shoulder. 

_ You and I are not like other wizards, darling. We've something more inside us, _ Moony had explained a couple of days after their first meeting. Paddy hadn't been there and Frank had gone home to his wife and baby. Moony spoke softly, tired green eyes shimmering with anxiety.  _ We have lycanthropy. We change form on the full moon. We are Wolves… and many fear and hate us.  _

Wolves. Madigan knew they were dangerous as any wild animal can be, and  _ that night _ proved it, but she'd always loved them, loved them for longer than she could remember. And, in spite of  _ that night, _ she didn't believe the horrors caused by a few meant the whole were monstrous. How could that be true? If Moony was one of them, surely not; he was one of the kindest, most wonderful people she'd ever met. But Moony seemed… pained to speak of how they would  _ become _ Wolves. And she couldn't tell anyone. Her new family all knew, but no one else was allowed to be told, not even potential friends,  _ because wizards do not like Wolves.  _

Frowning at the unfairness of vilification, Madigan headed into the kitchen, made a beeline for the back door, fumbled to unlock it, and slipped outside. The cool breeze that hit her was exactly what she'd hoped for. For a moment, she stood on the patio with her eyes closed and her head bowed to submit to the wind. 

When she was even younger… when Mama and Papa were alive… she had the vaguest memories of being taken outside whenever she was upset. 

_ Nature is where we can relax, where we can best be ourselves. _ The voices, her parents, were accented differently. Papa sounded like… Gid. Gid said he was from Ireland. But Mama… she rolled her r's, sounded like no one Madigan had yet met in London, and spoke another language that Madigan was sure she once knew well, but her memories were fuzzier every day, and she grabbed fistfuls of her own dark hair in frustration. A shudder ran through her entire body. 

Far from ready to go back to bed, the six-year-old witch grabbed the knit blanket hanging off the back of one of the patio chairs, wrapped it around her shoulders like a cape, and trekked out into the massive acreage Uncle James called a backyard. 

  
  
  


January 1979

_ “Gid, where’s Madigan?” Ewan asked when he looked up and noticed the twelve-year-old scamper back into the care home alone and sprint past toward the bathroom. _

_ “Porch. Big cat.”  _

_ “Wha--she’s three, Gid, you can’t leave her alone!” Ewan turned off the stove and darted toward the front door. _

_ “Had to piss, mate!” The Irish boy shouted back through the bathroom door. _

_ Ewan didn’t bother getting after Gid for his language or referring to him as “mate” instead of “Mr. MacKay”. Honestly, he preferred the kids use his first name, even though he was the caretaker; he was only just about to be twenty-six. And, he was more concerned with the unsupervised toddler. He definitely should have known better when Gid offered to watch Madigan while Ewan finished cooking dinner for the house. _

_ “Tigrecito,” Madigan cooed, smiling and lying on her side next to not a cat but a pale orange kneazle. She ran small fingers over the purring creature’s striped and speckled head and back. “So pretty.” _

_ The kneazle stretched languidly, as if reaching out to the child with his paws, then leaned closer and licked the tip of her nose, cobalt eyes narrowed with affection. _

_ Ewan realized he was gaping and quickly closed his mouth. “Er, Madigan?” _

_ The child went quiet and peered up at him cautiously. _

How the hell did a kneazle end up in muggle London? Or, rather, who lost their kneazle? _ “Where’d this guy come from?” _

_ Madigan shrugged. A very petite child, she was hardly any larger than the magical creature, which flicked his tufted tail and gazed at Ewan with intelligent eyes. _

_ Ewan carefully sat beside them, holding out his hand for the kneazle’s judgement and watching Madigan in his peripheral vision. She’d only been at the care home for six months, a few more than Ewan, who had transferred from a different area of the city. There were five kids in the home at the moment, Madigan the youngest by about five years. She didn’t reach out much for a toddler, and really only seemed shyly attached to Gideon Riordan. Luckily, the twelve-year-old appeared to accept his small companion, at least for the most part. Merlin knew she needed someone. She was too young to be so alone. _

_ With the touch of her fingertips, the kneazle’s pale fur suddenly deepened in color, so he looked even more accurately like a tiger than before, his stripes and speckles going black among the rich topaz. As if someone cast  _ Colovaria _ on him.  _

_ “Merlin’s beard,” Ewan breathed. Now it made more sense. The kneazle had approached the child because she wasn’t a muggle. Madigan Kiernan was a witch. _

  
  
  


“Shit.” Panic zinged up Sirius’ spine at the sight of Madigan’s empty bed. He slapped a hand over his mouth and peeked at Harry, relieved to see the baby still sleeping. She could be in the loo, Sirius tried to reason, backing out of the room--but the bathroom was open and dark when Sirius turned toward it. Where the hell was his child?! He made Remus stay in bed with the assurance that he could take care of Madigan on his own, but how was he supposed to do that if he didn't know where the fuck she was to begin with?! 

"Pads, why are you hyperventilating?" James yawned, Lily shuffling along behind him with her arms around his waist and her head resting between his shoulder blades. 

"PRONGS!" Sirius whirled and grabbed his best friend by the shoulders. "Madigan's not in bed or the toilet! I don't know where she went, and I promised Remus I could handle this--"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, mate." James caught Sirius' wrists and gently extracted himself from the other man's manic grasp. 

Lily straightened up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Look, she's six; she's probably just exploring the house. This place is huge, but she can't be far."

Sirius forced a deep breath and nodded. 

"We'll help you look." James patted his shoulder. Then, eyes glittering teasingly, he added, "You know, I'm impressed. It took you a whole month before you lost her."

"Shut up; it's not funny!"

"It's a little funny," Lily muttered, laughing under her breath, but hurrying off to search. 

It was James who ultimately suggested checking outside while Lily swept through the ground floor and basement after finding no sign of the child upstairs. And yet it was Remus who they spotted limping across the edge of the vast field toward the old English Oak where he’d tracked and spied Madigan sleeping peacefully.

“Dammit,” Sirius sighed, breaking into a sprint to catch up with his sick boyfriend, James following close behind.

Remus heard them coming, of course, just like he startled awake at the sound of Sirius freaking out at James and Lily. But, having realized what was currently crawling atop the sleeping six-year-old, he twisted slightly toward Sirius and James and lifted a shaking hand to press a finger to his lips then pointed. 

The English Oak must have housed several generations of bowtruckles; the little green creatures were hovering about the trunk, several on Madigan's shoulders and head, not minding how she trembled beneath them. A particularly small one was running long, twiggy fingers through her dark brown hair, exploring the soft waves while the other adults stood on guard. They tensed when the trio of wizards came closer. 

Uneasy that such typically gentle creatures were so alert in spite of their tree’s safety and no obvious threat, Remus limped slowly closer before kneeling and showing them empty, unsteady hands. The largest bowtruckle scuttled down Madigan’s shoulder, perched on her knee, and reached out to examine one of Remus’ hands.

_ Friend, _ his Wolf whispered, excited.  _ Small friend. Stick friend. _

The bowtruckle finished its inspection and peered up at Remus’ green and amber eyes for a long moment. Then it looked purposefully toward the fringe of the forest nearby, off the Potter property, on the opposite side of their magical wards. Remus followed its gaze and inhaled deeply through his nose.

_ BAD-- _

_ \--DANGER-- _

_ \--HE KNOWS! _

Remus gasped, doubling over and shaking so violently he was practically convulsing as pain seared through his entire body, crackling in his achy bones and slicing through spasming muscles, the Wolf desperate to emerge. This close to the moon, the separation between Remus and Wolf was far too thin. In his peripheral, sparking vision, he noticed Madigan’s eyes flash open, streaked amber, and he felt Sirius’ arms wrap around him as he clamped down hard on the Wolf. He quickly tucked his clenched hands against his stomach where Sirius wouldn’t see and forced a deep breath, rough and wheezy like an asthmatic.

“Moony,” Sirius started, clutching the trembling wizard tight, nose filled with the sharp reek of pain. But then he caught it: a faint, wild musk carried on the wind from the woods. Another werewolf had been here, and he was willing to bet he knew which one. “Shit.”

Madigan sat up slowly, bowtruckles hopping off of her. She whispered to the wizards by her feet at the same time as James, "What's going on?"

“Greyback’s been here,” Remus managed hoarsely. He wanted to grab Madigan and Sirius and James and run them inside, away from this area, even though he knew the older werewolf was gone, that he hadn’t been able to pass the barriers Moody had helped to reinforce around the Potter property. But his heart was still going a million kilometers per hour, and he couldn’t unclench his hands.

James ran a hand through his unruly hair, eyes wide. Then he scooped up Madigan. “All right, let’s everyone head inside.”

No one protested.

“What were you doing outside?” Sirius asked Madigan once they’d all settled down in the kitchen with Lily, Harry, and Maisy, who put on a pot of coffee and a kettle for tea. He draped one of the plush blankets another house elf had brought around Remus’ shaking shoulders and approached the six-year-old with the other.

“Moony. Hands.” James spoke quietly as he sat in front of his friend, holding out his own.

Remus lifted bleary eyes to James. Since starting work at St. Mungo’s and the birth of Harry, James was getting much better at noticing any little detail about his loved ones that so much as hinted at them feeling unwell. Remus reluctantly shifted and offered his bleeding hands.

“Aw, fuck, Moons.” James winced in sympathy. He had to carefully fight to help Remus uncurl his stiff, scarlet-tipped fingers, revealing gory crescents gouged into his palms as if by claws. The old scar tissue had been completely shredded away; James knew the scarring would be worse, and he was frustrated--far from the first time--that there was nothing he could really do that would prevent even these smaller pains from happening at all.

"Sorry," Remus whispered to James, immediately but gently shushed because  _ he didn't do anything wrong, so there's nothing to apologize for _ . But he felt the new, red scars uncomfortably tight and hot on his bicep, and he thought of Greyback’s scent lingering in the woods behind James' home, so close to where Madigan had been sleeping, and he knew that Greyback was never interested in the Potters, that he never would have come looking if Remus wasn't there. Remus always thought they were all stronger together. But what if he was wrong? Then he looked at Sirius, gently admonishing Madigan for sneaking outside like she had as she sat quietly shivering in the blanket Sirius secured around her. Sirius' eyes were too bright, silver instead of the dark storm--combined with his stiff back and flexing hands, they told Remus that he was scared. Greyback had come too close. Remus was so sick of being afraid, yet he was starting to worry that that was all he had left: pain and sorrow and fear. Remus missed burning now that everything felt like drowning. 

***

“Where are they?” Caradoc muttered. 

It had been nearly half an hour already since Aurora and Caradoc Dearborn set up watch from the woods surrounding the little, Southern Scottish wizarding village Moody had sent them to on a tip from Mundungus Fletcher. Mundungus himself was already posted in a cafe among the popular shops. They--or, at least, Aurora--could occasionally see him fidgeting, pawing at his cup of tea or glancing out the window. Aurora was just glad no one seemed to be paying much attention to the thief; he was barely keeping himself inconspicuous, perhaps due to the combination of caffeine and anxiety.

“Relax. The Death Eaters will be around here somewhere any minute now, and it’s a small village; we need to make sure they don’t notice  _ us.” _ Aurora ran a hand through her hair, which she’d enchanted to become dark brown and pin-straight, and she swore that had made it longer by a good five inches; her hair tickled her hips in a silky waterfall. Even her eyes were magically returned to the deep, earthen brown they were before her transformation into an animagus permanently sharpened them to a hawk amber.

Taking a deep breath and nodding, Caradoc offered his arm so they could head in to join the leisurely, afternoon bustle of wizards and muggles. His eyes flickered over Aurora as she slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow. “You look like your mum.”

“Thanks.” Aurora peered up at her friend with a small smile and bumped him lightly with her hip. “You look like a teenager without your scruff.”

Caradoc laughed softly, and they casually slipped onto the pavement, hoping they blended as any other young couple. “Well, after that long  _ trip  _ abroad, I thought it’d be nice to look like a twenty-two-year-old again.”

“You were gone a  _ long _ time. I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too. Heard you’ve finally started making new friends beyond myself, Frank, and Alice while I was away. Proud of you,” he teased lightly, keeping his voice low so only she could hear.

“Oh, come on; I’m not that bad.” Aurora glanced around, as tense as she could feel the Welsh wizard was, despite their nonchalant conversation, though there was nothing odd or out of place so far, no sign of Death Eaters. Somehow, that just made her more paranoid. Was Fletcher wrong? Was his information off? If so, was that purposeful? Uncle Alastor may have started rubbing off on her… 

“Rory, we both know you pushed everyone away and spent your last three years at Hogwarts alone.” His words were gently admonishing.

“Morgan died and you had graduated. I didn’t want anyone else.” She shook her head. “But Remus and his family are different. They’re not like the other students I was surrounded by those last years at Hogwarts.”

“I know. It’s just--you’ve been at  _ this  _ for nearly two years, including your final year at school, and you act tough, like you don’t give a toss, but I know you’re not okay.” He shook his head a bit. “Rory, you’ve been a bit…  _ erratic, _ and you let that block you off from other people… I suppose, I’m just trying to say, I’m glad you’re reaching out again.”

A moment passed in contemplative silence.

“...Caradoc, have I lost it?” Aurora whispered, struggling to keep the distress off her face.

Caradoc quickly steered them toward the fountain in the middle of the townsquare so they could claim a bench with a fantastic view of the area and gain a bit more privacy at the same time. “Don’t be daft, Rory. The last five years have been hell for everyone, and we each deal with that differently. You’ve not lost your head.”

“You sure?”

“‘Course I am. I know you.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Finally, Aurora smiled again. “I’ve got to drag you along to Remus and Sirius’ flat for a proper meeting; you’ll love them when you get to have a real conversation that doesn’t end in mission instructions.”

Caradoc laughed. “All right, deal.”

“Oh, Merlin.” The blood drained from Aurora’s face, and she quickly twisted close to Caradoc, hands on his arms, almost like she was going to kiss him, but he knew she was hiding.

“What’s wrong?” Caradoc ducked his head so their foreheads brushed.

“Baltizar Yaxley just showed up.”

Eyes flashing and flicking over Aurora’s shoulder, Caradoc scowled. “Figures  _ he’d  _ be a Death Eater. I take it you’ve run into him recently.”

“Yeah, and it ended with Remus breaking Baltizar’s nose.”

Caradoc laughed softly, careful to maintain their position. “Ooh, I love Remus already.”

Suddenly, Aurora froze. “Do you hear that?”

“No; what is it?” Caradoc glanced around, hand shifting to grasp the wand hidden in his coat.

Aurora’s face went ashen as she recognized the noises approaching steadily from the forest. “They’ve brought a troll.”

“Tr--what?!” Caradoc hissed. 

Aurora finally stood, mind already racing faster than her heart. “They’re not here to retrieve  _ anything.” _ To bring a troll into a village during its busiest hours would be mass slaughter.  _ If  _ they could get the troll into the village. “They’re here to cause as much death and destruction as possible.”

This was… much more interesting than they’d anticipated.

"All right, so we have a troll, and we have Death Eaters." Aurora and Caradoc locked eyes and promptly threw up their right hands. They rapidly bounced their fists in a quick game of Paper, Scissors, Stone, which Aurora won with Stone over Caradoc’s Scissors and a manic grin flashing across her face. “I’ve got the troll!”

“Shit,” Caradoc cursed, lurching to his feet and making a beeline for Mundungus Fletcher as Aurora shot off on her own toward the woods. Of course. Of course, his young and crazy friend chose to face off with a Ministry-classified XXXX beast. That was danger level four-- _ out of only five! _ And Caradoc would put money on it being a twelve-foot mountain troll; they were the largest and most vicious of the three breeds, definitely the best choice to set on a bunch of unsuspecting muggles and wizards.

Fletcher noticed Caradoc’s swift approach and hurried out of the cafe to meet him, but he wasn’t the only one.

“Dearborn!” Baltizar suddenly called out, and Caradoc barely managed to redirect a crackling, blue-white lightning spell that blew up several of the vehicles parked on the street and sent people screaming and fleeing like a giant had stepped on an anthill.

Aurora was a hawk as soon as she was beyond the trees, soaring up through the foliage. She was vaguely aware of the explosive sound of electricity somewhere behind her, but she could also hear Caradoc shouting spells, and she needed to focus on finding and stopping this troll. 

No sooner had she thought that then she had to veer sharply to her left, the tip of her wing tickling the mountain troll's rough gray cheek. It grunted and swatted at her, narrowly missing. 

_ Shit! Let’s try that again. _ Aurora shot straight up, high as she could go, then flipped, wings tucked close and beak pointing toward the earth. The wind nearly deafened her as her small, feathered body hurtled down. At the last possible moment, she threw open her wings, swooped, and thrust her talons into the top of the troll’s bald head before darting sideways. The creature bellowed in surprise and pain as blood beaded and trickled down its forehead, and it twisted around to snatch at her. It was a second too late, and she twisted around swiftly and pecked at its wrist before taking off again.

_ It’s working! _ The troll was unquestionably pissed off, but it was lumbering after her now, the opposite direction of the village.

“No, no, no! Bloody bird!” a strained voice lamented from below.

And before Aurora could flap higher, another yelled,  _ “Sectumsempra!” _

White light flashed toward her, and she twisted in a barrel-roll, but pain seared through her right wing, a piercing cry escaping her beak. She couldn’t keep herself steady, even attempting to glide her way to the ground; she was clumsy, flecks of blood like a sizzling trail through the air, and rocketed toward the earth, as far from the troll and Death Eaters as she could manage. 

“Fuck!” Aurora yelped as she changed back and tumbled the last meter into dewy grass, stones, and mud. She rolled part of the way and flung herself behind a thick tree trunk for cover, cradled by its massive roots. Blood soaked her sleeve and bloomed through the side of her blouse, even stained her hip. Panting heavily with pain, Aurora couldn’t bend her elbow and, though she couldn’t see much around her shredded and ruffled sleeve when she peeked, she could  _ feel  _ her tricep gaping open, streaming thick burgundy that cascaded down her arm and trickled from her twitching fingertips.

The ground shook under the troll’s approaching steps as Aurora fumbled to grasp her wand in her left hand and awkwardly aim it at her arm; she needed to at least slow the bleeding lest she pass out in the middle of the encroaching fight.  _ Healing spells, healing spells. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. _

_ “Expulso!” _

With a blinding flash of blue light, the tree suddenly exploded into splinters behind Aurora’s back, flinging her hard to the ground. She screamed on impact, certain her arm had just split open wider, but forced herself to her feet and began to run, weaving wildly through the trees, half-blind with pain. Her whole arm had a pulse. She flung curses over her shoulder without looking back, determined not to fall again and trying desperately to recall some sort of healing spell, practically anything at this point. One of her curses must have hit the troll; it grunted and roared.

The sound sent sparks through Aurora’s nerves but triggered something in her head. Remus. Remus knew some healing spells and had taught a few to the other young members that comprised the majority of the Order of the Phoenix when she’d attended her first meeting nearly three years ago. What the fuck were they? Without stopping, she clumsily waved her wand at her arm and cast the first she recalled. “Ferula!”

Bandages spun out of the tip of her wand and wound tightly around her useless arm. She gritted her teeth. It would do for now.

Wand pointing skyward, Aurora shouted,  _ “Ascendio!” _ and was propelled high into the sky. She twisted and angled her body so she landed lightly on her feet on one of the upper branches of a tree. A hysterical laugh escaped her even as she wobbled, swinging her wand like a lasso in the sky, gathering condensation and white cloud wisps before pointing toward the rapidly approaching troll and two Death Eaters carefully running after it.  _ “GRANDINIS TURBO!” _

Her grip tightened on her shaking wand, and an intense hailstorm shot out, pelting troll and Death Eaters with gradually enlarging balls of ice. This stopped them in their tracks, the Death Eaters rapidly backpedaling. The troll tried shielding its face with its arms, but a hunk of ice the size of a boulder smashed its hand into its brow, so it stumbled, and the next chunk cracked into its jaw. With the effectiveness of a solid punch, the troll was out like a light and felled several trees when it went down. 

Breathing hard, Aurora lowered her wand and grasped her tree’s trunk with a giddy grin and tears stinging her eyes. Who knew a charm created in boredom and procrastination of studying could come in handy against a troll?

Sharp cracks like the backfiring of a truck nearby alerted her to apparitions, and, before she could figure out how to get out of the tree, another two sounded below her. She immediately tensed--

“Miss Davenport?” 

“Is that you?” 

Edgar Bones and Benjy Fenwick stood at the base of her tree.

Aurora could have melted with relief. But she didn’t, lest she plummet twenty feet to the forest floor. Instead, she managed woozily, “It’s me.”

Edgar, a married father of two and experienced auror before joining the Order of the Phoenix, stepped back for a better look at her trembling, bloody figure. “...Are you stuck?”

“Yes.”

***

“Later, lads!” Aurora waved off Caradoc and Benjy with her good hand, having just side-alonged to her neighborhood from St. Mungo’s as the sun began to set.

Benjy waved back and promptly disapparated.

“Get some rest, Rory.” Caradoc stepped close and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “And take that Sleeping Draught.”

“I will,” Aurora lied, laughing. “Now, go on. You need rest too; you had to deal with Death Eaters  _ and  _ covering Fletcher’s arse.”

Caradoc shrugged but smiled back, drifting toward some tree coverage. “I still can’t believe you ran after a bloody mountain troll.”

Aurora shrugged one shoulder innocently, widening her eyes at him.

He shook his head and disappeared with a  _ crack _ .

“Could have been worse. Never once got hit by the troll,” Aurora commented to no one in particular and turned to walk a couple of streets down. She fidgeted with her sling, found the small bottle of Sleeping Draught she’d tucked into it, and slipped it into the enchanted pouch on her hip for later. The sky above turned deep oranges and pinks.

When, at last, she arrived on her street, she slipped right past her house and headed next door. Warmth bloomed through her chest as the porch came into view.

Martyn Powell sat in the clawfoot, wood armchair with sapphire cushions Aurora had transfigured for him a few days earlier, wearing a cozy, worn blue jumper that was a couple of sizes too big, his head tilted back with eyes closed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, a dwindling fag between his fingers. The dying light lingered over him, setting his auburn locks ablaze.

Aurora approached quietly, stepped up and leaned her hip against the wooden rail. “Just regular fags tonight, or saving the fun ones for later?”

Cerulean eyes flickered open and brightened, a smile like sunshine breaking out across his face. “Jules is rolling some fun ones right now.”

“A bloody gift, your sister.” Aurora smiled back and straightened as he quickly put out his cigarette stub in the ashtray, stood, and carefully wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her face against his collarbone and closed her eyes, relaxing into him.

“Oh, and she knows it; please, don’t encourage her,” he joked. Then, face in her hair, he asked softly, “What happened to your arm?”

“Fought a troll and some Death Eaters today; won, but got a right nasty gash.”

Martyn hummed sympathetically, enjoying the woodsy scent mixed in with her floral shampoo. “Well. Sounds like it’s a great night for a strong drink, innit?”

“Mm, absolutely. Haz bartending?” she teased.

“Always." Martyn finally pulled back but reached for her hand. "So, you want to tell me about the troll before or after we're sozzled?"

Aurora intertwined their fingers and laughed. "If I wait till later, we can talk in front of everyone, and they'll just think it's the weed, if they remember what I say at all."

Martyn chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t get into trouble on my account. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to tell you,” Aurora countered softly. “I love talking to you.”

“And I love listening.” He shifted a little closer, playing with a lock of her curly-and-blonde-again hair. “You’re literally magical; all your stories top mine.”

“No, they don’t,” she laughed again, beaming up at him. “I mean, to start, you live with five fantastic housemates with personalities bigger than a dragon.”

“That’s fair. They  _ are _ winding up for the night too.”

As if to prove his comment, someone inside put on Queen, and the music shook the door. Aurora thought she spotted Jules twirl by the window, Simon and Haz holding hands as they swept by to head for the kitchen and presumably alcohol. Merlin, Aurora loved Martyn's home. It was loud and lively like hers had never been. It was unrestrained, messy, and free. Mum liked quiet; this place would have sent her up the walls. Dad liked everything organized and neat, no chaos allowed; this place would have been his nightmare.

Aurora tugged on Martyn’s hand. “All right, take me inside. We can talk trolls tomorrow.” 

***

_ I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this anymore, _ Regulus couldn’t help but think as he watched Kreacher slink away to join the house elves of Malfoy Manor. But he quickly stomped on that panic. The last thing he needed was to fall to pieces in the snake pit, especially when more would be arriving for the meeting Voldemort called within the next few days. So, he took a deep breath, loosening his collar a fraction, and forced his mind anywhere but his intense desire to escape. Besides, though Regulus was getting better at Occlumency, he knew Voldemort was a powerful enough Legilimens that the slightest slip-up could attract his attention. 

The faint cry of a baby--Draco, surely--echoed down the dark hall, drawing Regulus’ stressed gray eyes. Moonlight streamed in through the enormous windows. Regulus was vaguely aware of Lucius coming down the stairs, calling out a greeting. He was too busy watching the rising, swelling moon. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, it would be full. He hoped Remus wasn’t alone. Would he be able to turn somewhere safe? Somewhere he could run free, wouldn’t rip himself to pieces? Somewhere Sirius and James and Peter could join and take care of him? Regulus ached to, to be there, to change form and race through the forest with the rest of their ragtag pack.

If Lucius found Regulus’ quiet rude or odd, he didn’t get to say anything. The front doors swung open with more arrivals: Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange--and Fenrir Greyback.

Regulus’ hands curled into fists. He would recognize the yellow-eyed werewolf anywhere after the attack on the Hogwarts students in 1977, only he didn’t ever expect to really meet him and his pack, who milled about outside but for one young female with dark hair, a hunger-slim face, and cautious, glimmering amber eyes. She hovered by Greyback’s side, looking as uneasy to be there as Regulus felt. Her lips moved, voice too soft for Regulus to make out, and Greyback smiled and stroked her hair as if she was a child. She flinched slightly, turned her head away, and met Regulus’ gaze. Caution shifted to curiosity, and he swore she was staring right into his anxious soul.

***

_ Tap-tap. Tap-tap. _

Aurora’s eyes cracked open, head throbbing and sore. Midday sunlight streamed into the small bedroom, illuminating the stacks of books under the windowsill and a mess of notes and drawings scattered atop them and the tiny old desk. Huh. This wasn’t her room.

_ Tap-tap. Tap-tap. _

Rubbing her eyes with her one good hand, Aurora swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.  _ Oh _ . A smile lit her lips as she realized there was a makeshift wall of pillows placed politely in the middle of the bed and Martyn still asleep on the other side of them.

_ Tap-tap! _

“Right, yes, I’m coming!” Aurora whispered, spinning back around and tripping her way quickly to the window, which she unlatched for the regal brown eagle owl that she thought belonged to the Potters.

The large creature hooted and stuck out a scaly leg.

“Thank you.” Aurora fumbled a little with the string, but it waited patiently as she freed the letter and didn’t leave even when she struggled to open the small bit of parchment. Expecting an immediate answer then. She unfolded the parchment.

> Aurora,
> 
> I hope this message finds you well. Tonight is the full moon, Madigan’s first. I’ve been thinking and, since you’re an animagus, I was hoping you might consider coming along with us this evening. I know the Ministry would have us change in a locked, secured room, but that only worsens the damage we would do to ourselves, and I want Madigan free from harm as much as she can be. I believe you would understand that. Please, let me know.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Remus J. Lupin

Remus. Without hesitation, Aurora hunted down a pen and blank paper to accept the invitation. She didn’t mention her wound or sling; except for the Sleeping Draught, she’d taken her potions, and she--would figure something out. Maybe she could transfigure herself a fake wing she could strap on like an enchanted prosthesis. Yes, yes, that could work. 

Her mind was already working overtime as she gave her reply to the owl. It took off with another hoot, and Martyn startled awake.

“Hey. What time’s it?” he slurred and yawned.

Aurora glanced at the clock. “Four-thirty.”

About three hours to moonrise.

***

“How bad does it hurt?” Madigan asked cautiously shortly after the rest of the group apparated into the woods.

Remus gently squeezed her hand, his own trembling. He looked even worse than the previous day, ashen and limping more heavily. They’d already discussed the process several times, and he’d answered every question the child had, but she couldn’t help but ask once more as she watched the sun steadily dipping beneath the tree-line. Her whole body had been buzzing for almost an hour now, hot and sore, senses sharper and too sensitive to--everything.

“It’s far from pleasant,” Remus rasped honestly. He turned amber-streaked eyes to hers, lowering his voice as if to tell her a secret. “But you must remember, no matter how bad it gets, the pain will pass. Then the Wolf takes over, and you will feel the best you ever have.”

He fell silent as Sirius hurried over to them. Peter was wringing his hands, glancing around the deep woods. James was helping Aurora, who flashed Remus and Madigan a reassuring smile before her form blurred and shrunk into a beautiful sparrowhawk. James knelt down, carefully wrapping her bad wing to her little body, pulling out his wand, and enchanting a wing prosthesis onto her. It was one of the oddest things Remus had seen in a while, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled Aurora was here in such a state, even as creative as she was in her solution. But then the sensation of a million hot needles plunging into his skin knocked him out of his train of thought. The moon was beginning to rise.


End file.
